


Scream

by climbingvines



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Quirks (My Hero Academia), Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Ethics & Politics of a Superhuman Worlds as like....a genre lmao, Forgivness & Self-Discovery, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Set In The Same Universe As BNHA Just Takes Place in South Korea, Superpowers, We Used to Date but Then Things Got Complicated(TM), friends to lovers to strangers, genre typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-25
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-27 05:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/climbingvines/pseuds/climbingvines
Summary: The boy laughed and threw an arm around Jongho’s shoulders like they’d known each other for years.“I’m Jung Wooyoung and I just saved your life.”“He wasn’t going to kill me.” Jongho rolled his eyes.“It’s a metaphor.”“A metaphor for what?”“Our relationship.”“We don’t have a relationship. I don’t even know you.”“Well let’s open that door and then you can buy me lunch.”---When Jongho was fifteen years old, he’d wanted nothing more than to grow up to become a Pro Hero. Somewhere along the line he lost sight of that dream, and he lost sight of Jung Wooyoung, too.---I wanna live, I wanna be right nowI wanna scream 'til my lungs give outOh, this is what it means to be alive
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32





	Scream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScarlettSiren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettSiren/gifts).



> This INITIALLY started as a prompt fill for a 1-Hour challenge. The more I thought about it, the attached I got to these characters and this world, so here we are 24k later. The lovely ScarlettSiren was the one who gave me the original prompt: 'that's the third time I've saved you life' + Wooyoung/Jongho, so I'm going to go ahead and gift this to them. 
> 
> Wooyoung - Quirk: Tranquilizer/Hero Name: Knock-Out - If he holds his breath for long enough he is able to convert the gases in his lungs to a inhalation based anesthetic that is entirely unique to him. He blows the gas into a person’s face and renders them unconscious in under thirty seconds. He has to be careful not to make the gas too concentrated or else he could seriously injure someone. Wooyoung served as a combat medic in the military and now works as a part of a Rescue team as a paramedic.
> 
> Jongho - Quirk: Voice Box/Hero Name: Siren - His vocal cords produce a sonic frequency beyond the normal range of human capability which allows him to manipulate his voice in a variety of ways. He possesses the ability to compel people by speaking to a certain extent, manipulating them into doing as he asks and even flipping around their sense of logic. The effects depend on his tone and intention: a joyful or mournful tone instills the same feelings in his listeners, so he often relies upon song to affect large groups of people. He can raise his voice in the form of a weapon and emit an enhanced scream of a high amplitude that can incapacitate, although it may sometimes cause physical damage. As a result, Jongho refuses to work as a Pro Hero who faces powerful villains directly. Instead he works for Rescue, specializing in crowd control. 
> 
> Hongjoong - Quirk: Resource/Hero Name: Reformation - He can telekinetically construct any inanimate, inorganic object he can think of, provided he has a base material of exact size to the object available. He can channel his ability into structures to keep them from collapsing or repair objects if he has an understanding of how they work, such as car engines. As a result he spends a lot of his time studying and memorizing various schematics and manuals. He is the leader of the Ground Zero team functioning under the agency Edenary Hero Works, led by Pro Hero and mentor, Eden. 
> 
> Seonghwa - Quirk: Tenebrosity/Hero Name: Corvus - Seonghwa was born with a hereditary mutation in the form of a set of dark colored, feathered wings. As an adult they are very large, the crest of which extends to the crown of his head and the tips of which nearly touch the floor when folded against his back. Seonghwa’s active Quirk is known as Tenebrosity which allows him to transform his own shadow or shadows of others into living beings. He can also pull the shadows of inanimate objects and use them to create shadow clones of himself. He is a member of the Ground Zero team at Edenary.
> 
> Yunho - Quirk: CAT Scan/Hero Name: Pinpoint - He functions as a mobile diagnostics lab. By visually scanning a patient he can sense the presence of diseases/gain detailed understanding about injuries to organs, bones, and other tissues. He works as a member of Rescue where his job is to determine the severity of injuries and make sure those needing urgent care are seen to right away as well as letting doctors and paramedics know what exactly is wrong with them. Yunho served as a Combat Medic alongside Wooyung and is a highly trained Paramedic in his own right, more than capable of administering emergency medical services. 
> 
> Yeosang - Quirk: Wireless Hub/Hero Name: Modem - Yeosang is an unnaturally skilled cyberpathic computer hacker. Via touch alone he can perceive, understand, control and generate electronic, digital, and radio transmissions. He can generate signals through one electronic device to another. He is able to interface with computers and IT networks, allowing him to download and gather information directly to his own mind. He is a member of the Ground Zero team at Edenary.
> 
> San - Quirk: Ebb & Flow/Hero Name: Downpour - A highly skilled martial artist specializing in Taekwondo, San is able to utilize water within his physical combat, using it as both a weapon and a defense; forming torrents to act as whips that can cut or bind. He can use water to push, move, lift, or otherwise manipulate the world around him. Can utilize water in any form up to ten meters around him. He is a member of the Ground Zero team at Edenary
> 
> Mingi - Quirk: 60 Seconds Fast/Hero Name: Dispatch - Mingi can see sixty seconds into the future once every five minutes. He is a Support Hero with no combat training but highly skilled in the dissemination of information and in the organizing of teams/control of dangerous situations. He is a member of the Ground Zero team at Edenary, working with Hongjoong and the others remotely from his mobile command station.

When the call came in -  _ all units respond; a fire has broken out on the Samsung Tower Palace One, Tower C; Tower C on the 32nd Floor. Origin Unknown -  _ Jongho was dispatched with the rest of the 102nd Rescue Squad to help with crowd control. 

Police vehicles and behemoth fire trucks surrounded the perimeter, making an effort to keep both themselves and the mass of civilian gawkers at a safe distance should the fire, manifesting on the outside of the building as thick plumes of smoke pumping from a small collection of open windows, spread to other floors and risk the building becoming structurally unsound. 

Jongho sat where he always sat during one of these calls. The white van had been designed specifically with his Quirk in mind. The speakers built into the side were of the highest quality available, all the bells and whistles; concert grade with incredible output. Jongho sat with his legs crossed neatly beneath him and his eyes closed, the microphone held close to his lips as he sang. 

The roof of the van was warm beneath his thighs. High above, the midday sun soaked into the black of his leather jacket, warming his back and shoulders. It made it easy to pretend the warmth on his cheeks and the smell of smoke in the air was simply the results of a pleasant afternoon spent sitting around a campfire. The song Jongho crooned was sweet and gentle, an original composition of his own creation designed to soothe and pacify nervous crowds. Not everyone would listen, but most would at least hear him, even if only subconsciously. 

The crowd watched as another team of civilian firefighters exited the wide open front doors of the tower, a confused group of residents following them to safety. Currently, they were working to clear any stragglers on the lower floors while a group of Pro Heroes had gone ahead to the 32nd Floor. If Jongho listened carefully he could hear the chatter of the Hero Team coming from the cab of the van, their voices broadcasting over the radio as they made their way up the stairs. 

A second group of firefighters escorted a group of residents out just as the first group was heading back in. Overhead, a helicopter circled, waiting from the all clear from the structural engineer before it landed and began the process of rescuing those who had taken refuge on the roof of the fifty-nine story supertower structure. 

“ _...Hero Team To Ground, Hero Team To Ground-” _

“Go ahead, Hero Team, this is Ground.” Song Mingi replied from inside the van. 

“ _ Ground this is Reformation, Pro Hero Kim Hongjoong. We’ve reached the 30th Floor. The fire has spread this far and there are still a handful of civilians trapped. Please have medical personnel prepared to receive as we extract them, Corvus and Company will be on the way down in-” _

“On the floor, Hongjoong!” Mingi suddenly barked, “You’ve got sixty seconds, get everyone down and cover your heads!”

High above their heads there was a creaking sound. It echoed through the surrounding buildings as a hush fell over the crowd. Jongho paused in his singing as he looked up. With a sound like thunder there was a  _ crack _ . The east side of the building, where the columns of smoke curled towards the sky, exploded in a shower of glass. The crowd screamed, some of them throwing their arms up over their heads out of instinct. Jongho began to sing again, belting out a series of notes meant to soothe and distract. A whirlwind erupted from somewhere on the ground, forming beneath the sparkling waterfall of deadly glass. It swirled up to meet the glittering debris, sweeping it into a neat cyclone before any of it could reach the ground. 

“Thank you, Bluster.” Mingi said. Jongho could hear his fingers flying over the keys of his laptop.

_ “No problem!” _ Yoohyeon chirped back, her bright, happy voice barely audible over the sound of the wind whipping past her earpiece.  _ “I’m going to take this somewhere safe for Clean Up.” _ The cyclone diminished as she stepped out of it, shrinking down until it was only a story or two high. It twinkled dangerously as it rotated, all of the fallen glass trapped safely inside by air pressure and deadly fast currents. Yoohyeon took off at a sprint down a side street, the cyclone following behind her like an obedient puppy. 

“Reformation,” Mingi called out to their lead hero, “Everyone okay up there?”

“ _We’re fine, Dispatch._ ” Hongjoong answered right away. “ _Modem is trying to tap into the building’s data logs. We need to see if we can figure out what caused that explosion. This whole damn place is one giant computer, though, so it’s gonna take him a minute to sort through everything and find something useful._ ” 

“10-4, Reformation. Is Downpour getting the fire under control?” 

“ _ He and Corvus are systematically going door to door. Corridors are under control but there’s some structural damage to the east side of the building. I’m heading that way now to see what I can stitch together. _ ”

“Sounds like a plan, Captain, Let me know what you find out. I won’t get another Flash for at least four minutes, so keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”

Hongjoong chuckled,  _ “Thanks, Mingi. Will do.” _

Mingi knocked on the roof of the van, grabbing Jongho’s attention. 

“Siren, we’re gonna need you on the ground. I want you to go meet Knock-Out and Pinpoint by the doors. We need you talking to anyone who can safely speak. I don’t think this fire was an accident. Somebody saw something, we just have to figure out who.”

Jongho uncrossed his legs and stood carefully, stretching his neck and then his arms high above his head. His back popped and he groaned. Choi San, hero name Downpour, wasn’t the only water based Pro on the scene and Jongho knew it was only a matter of time before the blaze was under control. Mingi was right, what was most important right now was interviewing the residents rescued from the affected floors. If this was the work of a Villain, they needed to know right away. 

Jongho climbed down the metal ladder on the side of the van, handing Mingi his microphone through the rolled down window and accepting an earpiece of his own in exchange. He fixed it into his ear and gave Mingi a quick thumbs up when it switched on, instantly connecting him to the network of Heroes working the scene.

Down on the pavement, Jongho could no longer see the open doors of the skyscraper. He rounded the van and began to make his way through the throng of police officers and firefighters on standby, all of them either waiting for the fire to spread out of control or for them to get the all clear and be able to enter the building. 

Residents who had managed to safely evacuate on their own milled around anxiously in a separate area from the rest of the crowd. A few of them were being treated by paramedics for minor smoke inhalation, oxygen masks firm over noses as they breathed in and out, but for the most part the residents from the lower floors looked relatively unharmed. Jongho had heard reports over the radio that there had been some pushing and shoving in the initial panic of the evacuation, but there wasn’t anything to show for it other than a few twisted ankles and a banged up wrist or two. People clutched bird cages, cat carries, and yapping little dogs on leashes. One boy held a hamster ball in his lap as he sat on the sidewalk, a fat gerbil wriggling around inside. 

A woman was crying, her face buried in her hands and as Jongho passed her by he hesitated. He should stop and soothe her nerves, he thought, but just as he turned in her direction a man, probably her husband, pulled her into his arms and let her sob into his chest instead. It was better that way, he knew. Jongho hated using his Quirk on someone if he didn’t have to. People processing their emotions naturally was always better. Healthier. 

It was only because Jongho had been watching the woman so closely that he even noticed him. There was a man standing with the rest of the residents but he looked nervous. He shuffled from foot to foot, wringing his hands together over and over again. It might have been a simple trick of the light, but Jongho thought he saw sparks come from between his uneasy fingers, like the sparkwheel of a lighter being flipped again and again by a restless smoker. There was something about his face. Something familiar, like Jongho had seen him before, or had known him maybe, once upon a time.

A gasp and then a cheer rose from the collected crowd. Jongho tilted his head up just in time to see a figure leap from the gaping crater that had once been the east wall of the 30th floor in a graceful swan dive, absolutely fearless. A pair of pitch black wings spread out behind him and they flapped once, twice, before settling into a steady glide. Smooth as water, five more figures took to the air behind him, appearing identical from a distance. Like a flock of crows, they circled, then landed in the middle of the road next to where the paramedics had set up shop. 

It never failed to amaze Jongho how much faith the people who worked Rescue had in Hongjoong’s ability to keep structures sound and prevent buildings from collapsing right on top of them. They had no problem parking their ambulances right next to a burning highrise, confident that their lead Pro Hero would succeed in keeping them all safe.

Jongho made his way over to where the collection of winged figures were busy handing rescued residents over to the paramedics. Only one of them was a real flesh-and-blood man; the first one who had leaped so fearlessly, dressed all in black. Boots, jeans, and a loose cardigan. He didn’t look like he'd been working in a burning building at all except for a small smudge of soot along the bridge of a strong nose. 

The shadowy figures, solid silhouettes of their master, disintegrated one by one into a hazy, oily sheen of smoke that streaked up through the air back to where they’d come from. 

“What did you Borrow those from this time?” Jongho asked, clapping Corvus on the shoulder, careful to avoid the sweep of his wings as he folded them behind himself. 

Seonghwa smiled at him, brushing at the sleeve of his cardigan to remove a bit of plaster dust. 

“Recliner, standing lamp, a couple of barstools.” He answered, listing off the inanimate object whose shadows he’d Borrowed to create his clones. “I gotta go. Be careful, Jongho-yah.” He turned and ran a few steps down the street, leaping into the air as he spread his wings, they beat with a sort of lethal looking grace as he soared through the air back to Hongjoong and the rest of his team. 

“Siren!” A voice shouted, drawing Jongho attention away from the sky. He sighed as he turned back to the bank of ambulances and the small triage area the paramedics had set up. It wasn’t that he disliked Knock-Out, it was just that the two of them had a rather fraught history that neither of them was willing to talk about and it tended to make things...awkward. 

Jung Wooyoung knelt next to a gurney, blonde hair as bright and obnoxious in the midafternoon sunlight as his personality. As Jongho approached, Jeong Yunho, otherwise known as Pinpoint, finished up the scan he was performing on a man with a large laceration to his forehead. 

“Concussion,” Yunho was saying, eyes unfocused as he rattled off the information his Quirk provided him. “And a minor subdural hematoma. Shouldn’t require surgery but it should be closely monitored for the next few days.” Yunho informed the driver. He and Wooyoung worked to load the gurney into the back of the ambulance. A civilian paramedic climbed in the back with the patient and Yunho slammed the doors behind him, smacking his hand on the side of the truck to signal everything was good to go. The driver took off and the two of them turned to finally focus all of their attention on Jongho. 

“Ready for me?” Wooyoung smiled, throwing his arm around Jongho’s shoulders like they were old friends, and he supposed they were. Or they had been, once. 

\---

When Jongho was fifteen years old, he’d wanted nothing more than to grow up to become a Pro Hero. His Quirk was powerful. By the time he was halfway through middle school he’d received love calls from all the best hero schools in the nation, offering him a place in their programs based on recommendations from his teachers, coaches, and tutors. His grades were perfect, his record was spotless, and he was physically strong all on his own without any sort of Quirk to enhance his physique. He excelled at both boxing and hapkido, was an avid cross country runner, and enjoyed playing both baseball and basketball in his freetime. 

When Jongho received notice that he would be allowed to take the practical portion of the entrance exam for the number one hero program in the country, located at Yongung Technical School, he had been beyond thrilled. 

The practical exam had been a race, all two hundred students accepted to take the exam assigned a door leading into an expansive warehouse maze; tasked with making it to the center to claim one of the pins that would guarantee their acceptance into the Hero Studies program. 

For Jongho, it had been a test in endurance more than anything else. When the door slid open he’d been greeted with the sight of a dimly lit hallway and absolute silence. He began to run right away, picking his way around corners and down long corridors at a steady jog, doubling back when he reached a dead end. For almost fifteen minutes he saw no one. When he finally did encounter someone he realized it almost too late. The spray of playing cards just missed him, flying through the air to embed themselves into the concrete wall behind him, edges as sharp as steel. 

Jongho turned wide eyes to stare at the boy standing at the other end of the corridor, curly brown hair and a roguish blonde streak just above his temple, he smiled at Jongho and moved his wrist just so. A selection of brightly colored red balls appeared as if from nowhere between his fingers. The slight of hand was as terrifying as it was mesmerizing. He wondered if the boy’s Quirk was what made it possible or if the boy had once aspired to be a magician. 

The boy did an artful twirl, switching his weight from one foot to the other as he wound up to throw and Jongho didn’t know what those little red balls would do if they hit him, but he didn’t imagine it was good so he focused all his attention on making his voice sound confident and sure of himself as he said, 

“You don’t want to do that!” He said, voice echoing down the hall. The boy paused mid-windup, staring at Jongho in shock.

“I don’t?” He asked, eyes wide. He didn’t move, body poised halfway through an attack that his mind had abandoned. 

“Of course you don’t. You want to let me go.”

“I do?” The boy asked. He looked doubtful, the bridge of his nose wrinkling cutely as he tried to think about what Jongho was saying, so Jongho pushed just a little bit harder. 

“Sure you do. What’s your name?”

“Sungho. Lee Sungho.” The boy answered automatically. He frowned, brows drawing together in confusion, probably wondering  _ why  _ he’d answered Jongho’s question so easily. 

“Well, Sungho-ssi, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“How can we be friends?” Sungho asked, a pout curling around his lips and he fought against Jongho’s manipulation, “You didn’t even know my name!”

Jongho switched tactics, shrugging. He smiled easily eyes darting around the room as he tried not to make it too obvious that he was looking for an escape route. The hall he had been heading down ended as a dead end just a few meters up ahead. He had already checked all the various nooks and crannies back in the direction he had just come from. The only clear way to the center appeared to be behind Sungho. 

“We might not be friends now,” Jongho said conversationally, “But we could be friends, don’t you think?” He shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked towards Sungho, keeping an eye on the little rubber balls nestled between each finger of his right hand. The closer he got, the tenser Sungho became. The boy abandoned his aborted throw, falling into an uneasy stance, both hands hanging at his side as he shook his head like a dog trying to rid water from its ears. 

They were standing face to face now, close enough for Jongho to deflect a physical attack if he needed to, but he still wasn’t exactly sure what this kid’s Quirk was. His best bet was to get Sungho to let him pass unscathed. 

“How about we play a game, Sungho-ssi?” Jongho smiled, “Have you ever played hide and seek? Let’s play that. Close your eyes and count to one hundred, then come find me. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“A game?” Sungho repeated. This close, the effect Jongho’s voice was having on him was strong and his eyes seemed unfocused as he mouthed the words to Jongho's suggestion. “Sure, I can play a game.” He closed his eyes, the little red rubber balls still hanging loosely at his side. “One, Two, Three-”

Jongho slipped past him and walked as calmly as he could down the corridor. When he reached the end of the hall he made a split second decision, turned to right, and then he ran. 

He could still hear Sungho’s voice trailing off into the distance behind him.

“Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-One…”

Jongho didn’t see anyone else for the rest of the exam and it made him uneasy. Something, or someone, had to be getting to them first. The section of the maze he found himself in was almost dead center of the warehouse, he was so close to his prize. Jongho jogged down a corridor, looking for a break in the wall that would let him turn left and take him one layer closer, but instead what he found was a door. It was brightly colored and lit up like downtown neon. There were words inscribed across it and as Jongho read them he quickly realized it was a riddle. There was a keypad next to the door, obviously intended for him to type his answer in and unlock the door. 

Jongho was so engrossed in the riddle he didn’t even hear the person approaching until someone breathed in his ear,

“Found you…” 

Jongho whirled around, but he was too slow. With a flip of his wrist Sungho revealed one of the little red balls and dropped it to the ground where it promptly  _ exploded _ in a thick red powder that coated Jongho up to his knees. When Sungho snapped his fingers it  _ solidified _ , forming a rubbery cocoon around Jongho’s shins. It threw him off balance and he fell forward, landing hard on his hands and knees. Quicker than Jongho’s eyes could follow Sungho pulled two thin metal rings, they looked almost like bracelets, from some nebulous place and placed them over Jongho’s wrists, tugging them behind his back and somehow linking them together, forming cuffs that felt way stronger than they looked. Jongho opened his mouth, intending to ensnare the boy with his words again but Sungho quickly drew a small string of scarfs from his pocket and stuffed them in Jongho’s mouth. 

“None of that.” He said, tone prim as he smiled down at Jongho. “I have to admit that’s a really powerful Quirk. If you’d have made it in the program you would have been gunning for the Top Hero spot for sure. It’s too bad, really.” He left Jongho like that, bound, gagged, and kneeling on the floor as he turned to examine the door himself, mumbling the words of the riddle over and over again.

Jongho fought against the bonds on his wrist, but it seemed like the more he struggled the more they tightened. He tried to push the wad of cloth out of his mouth with his tongue but they only seemed to multiply. It was maddening. 

There was a noise from the opposite end of the corridor. A small boy stumbled around the corner. He froze when he saw them, eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. 

“Hey guys…” He said cautiously, “Wh-what’s going on? We’re all classmates, aren’t we? Shouldn’t we be helping each other?” He looked back and forth between Jongho and Sungho imploringly. “There’s enough pins to go around.”

“You can’t know that.” Sungho shook his head, “What if we help each other, then we get inside and there’s only one pin left? Are you willing to risk that? Because I’m not, I’m sorry.” Sungho raised an arm and another length of scarves shot out from his sleeve, wrapping around the newcomer’s torso, binding his arms tight to his sides. The boy stumbled backwards and fell on his ass, his face quickly turning red as he stared up at Sungho in shock.

Sungho sighed and he walked over to the boy and crouched down in front of him, one of his little red balls already poised and ready to go. 

“I’m sorry it has to be this way.” He smiled sadly. The boy blinked and then puffed his cheeks out and  _ blew _ . A thin mist erupted from between his lips, enveloping Sungho’s face and Sungho stumbled back, coughing. 

“What the hell was th-” His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed into a heap on the floor. 

Instantly, the rubber encasing Jongho’s legs dissolves back into a harmless powder and the links around his wrists clattered to the ground. He ripped the scarves from his mouth and turned to the newcomer, ready to fight.

The boy only laughed and threw an arm around Jongho’s shoulders like they’d known each other for years.

“I’m Jung Wooyoung and I just saved your life.”

“He wasn’t going to kill me.” Jongho rolled his eyes.

“It’s a metaphor.”

“A metaphor for what?”

“Our relationship.”

“We don’t have a relationship. I don’t even know you.”

“Well let’s open that door and then you can buy me lunch.”

Wooyoung was a year older than him, Jongho learned. The year before, Wooyoung had failed to get into the Hero Program and he had spent the last year as a General Studies student. His transfer to the Hero Program quickly became the talk of the school. His high marks and his charismatic personality made both the teachers and the students feel at ease. 

He was Jongho’s best friend. 

Jongho didn’t even know how it happened, but it was like from the moment they left that maze together, the final two pins secured to their collars, Wooyoung had decided to never leave Jongho’s side.

Wooyoung’s Quirk wasn’t anything special. He couldn’t fly or lift semi-trucks over his head or wield lighting. What he  _ could  _ do was hold his breath and somehow that converted the various gases in his lungs into an inhalation based anesthetic that was entirely unique to him. It was powerful, capable of knocking someone out cold in thirty seconds or less, but because of its relatively short range of use Wooyoung had needed to learn to adapt. Opponents weren’t just going to let him walk up and blow literal smoke up their noses. He’d learned that the hard way when he’d taken the entrance exam the year before and had his ass thoroughly handed to him. 

After he missed his chance, Wooyoung spent the next year training in hand to hand combat and came back fighting, literally. It had been  _ Wooyoung _ who had cleared the halls before Jongho reached the door, subduing and rendering the other competitors unconscious while he tried to solve the riddle. 

First year, second year, internships and licensing exams. Jongho and Wooyoung even chose to do their work study under the same Pro Hero, Eden, which was where the two of them had originally met Hongjoong and the others. 

At one point, the eight of them had dreamed of being one team. Eden, who ran Edenary Hero Works with confidence and skill, brought them together when Jongho and Wooyoung had been in their third and final year at Yongung Technical School. They joined his agency as interns at the beginning of their third year; the final pieces to the team Eden had been building since he took Hongjoong under his wing in his very first year.

Eden had already guaranteed them formal positions as sidekicks as soon as they had their diplomas in hand. The contracts were ready, all they had to do was sign. Wooyoung was ecstatic. They were going to be Pro Heroes. They were going to do it  _ together.  _

Everything was perfect. Graduation was just around the corner. Days away, even. They would receive their diplomas, hug their parents, and then head straight to Edenary to sign their contracts making them official sidekicks, registered and legally allowed to use their Quirks in public to make a real difference in the world. 

Criminals- _ Villains, _ always seemed to fall under one of two categories; Showboats or Psychopaths. They either wanted to make a name for themselves or they wanted to change the world. Either way they wanted everyone’s eyes on them when they did it. Open any history book written about the world since the evolution of Quirks and the patterns were obvious. Their work as interns had let them experience it in real life, too, but nothing they had seen so far would prepare them for what would happen next.

Family Day meant that Jongho’s mother, father, and younger brother were there along with Wooyoung’s family, minus his Quirkless older brother who was serving his time in the military. Wooyoung’s little brother, Kyungmin, was just past five years old and hadn’t shown any signs of having a Quirk yet. Wooyoung’s mother, Quirkless just like his father, told him that his great-grandmother had an ability similar to what Wooyoung could do, but it had been pollen based. She’d married a man with no powers and no one in their family since had developed a Quirk worth mentioning. Being Quirkless was rare, less than 20% of the world population, but for Wooyoung’s family living a life without Quirks in a superhuman world was just business as usual. 

Wooyoung becoming a Pro Hero was the stuff of dreams for Kyungmin and he looked at his older brother with stars in his eyes. Jongho’s own brother had a quirk similar to his own, allowing him to mimic voices and had aspirations to become a voice actor; hero work wasn’t for him. Watching Kyungmin as Wooyoung carried him around campus on his shoulders, asking ten thousand questions a minute in that high, sweet little voice of his, made Jongho’s heart ache in a beautiful way.

Jongho and Wooyoung led Jongnam and their parents around campus, answering Kyungmin’s questions with barely suppressed laughter. Afterwards they had lunch in the cafeteria, cracking jokes about how the food was always better when the parents who paid their tuition were around. It should have been idyllic. A beautiful picture made even more perfect when he felt Wooyoung’s fingers thread with his own underneath the table. That was still new and they weren’t ready to share it with the world yet, but Jongho was so- so  _ happy _ . 

When the screaming started he didn’t recognize it for what it was at first. Even after being on the ground with Eden and the others at numerous disasters, the sounds of panic seemed so out of place on a campus full of would-be heros that they didn’t sound familiar. They had to be screams of excitement. Someone was doing a demonstration or maybe a popular student had gotten news that they’d been accepted into their agency of choice. 

It wasn’t until the first explosion that Jongho realized what was actually going on. 

The floor shook and several students jumped to their feet, running to the windows to peer down at the campus lawn below. 

“We have to go.” Wooyoung said, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth as he looked towards the wall of windows, sunlight streaming into the cafeteria from the beautiful day outside. He picked up Kyungmin and turned towards the kitchens. 

“Wait, Wooyoung-ah!” His mother fretted. “Shouldn’t we stay here? Isn’t it dangerous to move around too much before we know what’s happening?”

Wooyoung shook his head. “Whatever’s happening, it’s happening because all of you are here today. The families have to be the target. We need to go, now.”

Jongho looked around the large, open room. At the parents, siblings, grandparents, whoever loved and supported the students graduating in just a few days. 

“We have to get them out, Young-ah.” He said, “We can’t just leave them here.”

Wooyoung clutched his brother closer to his chest, “Y-yeah, you’re right. What should-what should we do?”

“Let me handle it.” Jongho said. He climbed up on a nearby table and put his fingers between his lips, letting out a piercing whistle that drew the consideration of most everyone in the room. 

“Hey!” He yelled, imbuing a sense of Command into his words that he knew would inspire most everyone listening to pay attention. “We need to get the family out of here. It can’t be a coincidence that whatever is happening right now is happening  _ today _ .” Students and family alike watched him speak with dawning horror. “We have to get everyone to safety.” He said, adding an extra layer of Calm to his voice. “Heroes, we have to do this carefully so we don’t draw attention to ourselves. Teams of two to three, take your families and lead them out of harm's way. Don’t use the front entrance. Take the inside doors out into the halls of the school and then exit from there. Be quiet, stay together. Avoid the front lawn and don’t draw attention to yourselves.” 

The students listened intently. Jongho was top ranked, a third year just shy of graduating. It was only natural for him to take charge. Many of them were already moving to do as he asked, pairing up and leading their families towards any point of exit that would lead them away from the sound of explosions coming from outside. The building shook again. The impact must have been much closer. Jongho didn’t know who was fighting the intruder, but he hoped it was someone powerful. A teacher or a Pro Hero who happened to be on campus today visiting their child. 

Jongho turned and went to climb down from the table. He barely managed to contain his blush when Wooyoung fitted his hands around his waist and hoisted him down, Kyungmin safely in his father’s arms. Wooyoung took Jongho’s hand, unthinking and turned to their families. 

“Follow me.”

He pulled Jongho behind him as he ran for a door tucked into the corner next to the lunchline. The kitchen was warm, the heat from the ovens and the smell of hot oil and simmering soups thick in the stifling air. The staff looked at them with wide eyes, shocked to see students in the kitchen. 

“You have to go.” Wooyoung informed them. “The campus is under attack. Find a safe place and hide.”

“The basement.” One of the cooks said, “There’s a shelter down there. It’s designed to withstand almost anything.”

“It’s not very big, though.” Another cook mentioned, “It’s only meant for the staff.” 

The woman’s tail twitched nervously behind her. Jongho wondered what her Quirk was, if it had anything to do with the tail or cooking or whether she just liked to cook and her Quirk had nothing to do with either the tail or her job. 

“Don’t worry about us.” Wooyoung reassured her. “Go on, we can take care of ourselves.”

The staff hurried into the pantry, through a door, and down a metal staircase, disappearing into the basement without any more arguments. 

“Can’t we go with them?” Wooyoung’s mother asked, eyes wide as she watched them go. “Wouldn’t the basement be safer even if we can’t all fit in the shelter?”

Wooyoung shook his head. 

“I’m sorry, eomma.” He said, hugging her for just a moment. “There are bombs going off outside, or someone is using a Quirk that’s just as dangerous. What if the building collapsed? We could be trapped down there, or crushed even. We need to get you guys out of here. You’re safe with Jongho-yah and I, but we can’t protect a lot of people on our own. Our Quirks don’t work like that. It’s better this way.” 

Wooyoung took Jongho’s hand again, almost like a reflex and for just a moment Jongho saw Jongnam’s eyes flash down to where their palms touched, eyebrows raised in question but Jongho shook his head, quick and fast.  _ Now's not the time _ , he hoped his brother got the message. Jongnam pressed his lips together suppressing a small smile, but mimed zipping his lips. Jongho rolled his eyes, but he was fighting a small blush just the same. 

Near the back of the kitchen was a small service hallway and at the end of that, a loading dock. 

Jongho tested the handle, finding it unlocked. He cracked it open, peering out into the empty back lot where the cafeteria staff parked their cars. The reverb of another far off explosion echoed from around the front of the building. 

“There’s no one.” Jongho said after a few moments of observing. “Where should we go?”

“Gym A is for the first years, maybe they won’t expect any of the graduates’ families to be there. And there will be plenty of places to hide.” Wooyoung whispered back. His hand rested on Jongho’s lower back as he crowded into his space to look out the cracked door as well. “We’ll stick to this back lot and then we should be able to cross between the Gen Ed and the Support classrooms to make it to the sports complex. Gym A should be right on the other side. We get them inside, hopefully Coach Fire Cat will be there and we can leave them with her and double back-”

“Wait, you’re not coming  _ back _ -” Jongho’s mother said. He felt the tiny bit of the compelling Pressure she could exert with her own Quirk; it was what made her such a formidable Dean at the college she worked at, as well as an even more terrifying mother. 

“It’s our duty.” Jongho reassured her, placing gentle hands on her shoulders. 

“Not yet, it isn’t.” She argued, “You’re still students. For three more days! You’re not Pro Heroes yet.”

“I’m so sorry, eomeonim.” Wooyoung smiled sadly. Wooyoung, being the cheeky bastard he was, had called Jongho’s mother that way pretty much from the first weekend Jongho had brought him home with him. It had always been a joke, one that caused Jongho’s serious and rather stoic mother to chuckle and shove at the mischievous boy’s shoulder playfully. The recent  _ shift  _ in their relationship, however, had the tips of Jongho’s ears turning red in response. “A diploma doesn’t mean anything right now.” Wooyoung said. “We've fought villains before, we’ll be okay.”

Another explosion rocked the building, closer this time. Jongho thought he heard the tinkling of broken glass coming from the cafeteria behind them.

“We have to go.” He said, tense. “Right now.”

Wooyoung took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air that he could hold for an unusual length of time. The testing their instructors had put him through during training had determined years ago that Wooyoung could hold his breath for up to ten minutes before his body started screaming to take a breath, the only drawback was that the longer he held his breath the more concentrated and powerful the gas became. Wooyoung had learned that the hard way when they were second years and he’d accidentally put one of their instructors in the hospital. It had taken almost a month and a nasty brain bleed for the instructor to come out of their coma, even with the help of numerous doctors with healing Quirks treating them. It was still something Wooyoung carried a lot of guilt about. 

They edged out the door and onto the loading dock. As quietly as possible, they lead their families down a small set of concrete stairs and into the empty parking lot. Moving in a close knit group, they crept around the corner on the building and stopped, listening intently. 

The main path through campus was wide. Wide enough for the student population to move between classes without causing a traffic jam or making it uncomfortable for people who’s Quirks affected their size or physical form in some way, which was great for a normal school day, but right now it meant they had to make a mad dash across the thoroughfare without being seen. 

“All at once, or just a couple at a time?” Jongho whispered. Wooyoung jerked his head, unable to speak with his lungs full of gas, but Jongho got the message as Wooyoung’s eyes flicked back and forth between Jongho, his mother, and his brother. He nodded and then turned to their family, hidden from sight near the edge of a landscaping installment.

“Eomma, Jongnam, you first.” Jongho said, taking his mother by the hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Run.” He encouraged, pulling her behind him as they sprinted across the wide stretch of concrete. Jongnam’s footsteps followed close behind. They ducked behind a water feature, the fountain’s musical fall of water doing nothing to alleviate the creepy almost too still silence that seemed to have fallen over the campus. 

Jongho strained his ears, listening for the sound of more explosions, screaming, even the sounds of battle. There was nothing. Quickly, they dashed across the last section of road where Jongho gently shoved them both behind a shrub. They were followed a few minutes later by their fathers, and then that left Wooyoung to guide his mother across, Kyungmin’s head buried in her neck. 

They had just made it to the water feature when sound came rushing back in like the boom of a jet breaking the sound barrier; almost like a shield had dropped. 

Jongho looked up in shock, just in time to see the unconscious form of Urban Hex soar over the building. It must have been her that was shielding the battle on the other side, locking the combatants inside a designated safezone. The school’s guidance counselor most often used her Quirk to give students a safe place to talk without being overheard, but in her prime as a Pro Hero she had been known to cover entire city blocks with her shields, trapping villains and keeping civilians out until criminals could be captured. 

Jongho had no idea if she was even alive or not, but he scrambled from his place behind the shrub, left his mother and brother behind and rushed to break her fall. It was going to hurt, he knew, but he still stretched his arms out and caught her. The impact rolled him and he did his best to curl himself around her, taking the brunt of the fall. His shoulder cracked sickeningly upon impact, and he hissed a breath out through his teeth as the super-heated sensation of pain rocketed down his arm and across his chest, but he didn’t let Urban Hex go, kept her safe until they rolled to a stop. 

“Ms. Hex!” Jongho laid her carefully on the sidewalk. “Ms. Hex, can you hear me?” 

Wooyoung scrambled to his side. He turned his head and blew out the breath he was holding to the side, like a smoker trying to avoid blowing a cloud of smoke in someone’s face. Even with the extra care, a bit of the vapor got caught up in the cross breeze and puffed into Jongho’s face, but he was grateful for it, really. It wasn’t a concentrated dose, designed to knock a person out, so instead it just made Jongho feel a bit numb, his fingertips tingled but his shoulder didn’t feel like it was full of broken glass anymore. 

Wooyoung excelled in first aid. He had the highest marks in the course from a student in the Hero Studies program. He wanted to be a Pro Hero, without a doubt, but their instructors always insisted that Hero work wasn’t something they could count on forever. Any number of reasons could make it so a hero couldn’t  _ be  _ a hero anymore. Studies showed that Pro Heroes who couldn’t carry on and be useful suffered from depression, so in their country they encouraged students in Hero Programs to develop a set of secondary skills. While Jongho had chosen to take courses in conflict resolution, Wooyoung’s secondary skill set was in medicine. He had all the qualifications of an Emergency Medical Technician and was certified to provide treatment in emergencies when no other medical professional was immediately available. 

Deftly, Wooyoung checked for her pulse. He relaxed visibly when he found it. 

“We have to move her, but I don’t know what sort of injuries she has.” Wooyoung scowled unhappily. “I wish Yunho was here. Or Hongjoong, he could whip me up a c-collar and a stretcher in no time.” His voice shook a bit as he worked, but his hands didn’t as he checked her over for visible injuries with steady confidence. 

Now that her shield was down, the sounds of battle were heavy in the air. There was a crackle like electricity, followed by the unmistakable sound of lightning striking. The fight seemed like it was still contained to the front lawn outside of the cafeteria, but that could change in an instant now that Urban Hex was no longer holding them back. 

A figure flew over the building, this time of their own violation. A woman landed next to them, shoving the wild tangle of her hair out of her face. Jongho recognized her as the Pro Hero known as Razor’s Edge and she hadn’t flown, but rather lifted herself over the building with the thin strands of wire she manipulated. 

“Taeyeon!” Razor’s Edge gasped. “Is she okay? I-is she-”

“She’s not dead.” Wooyoung said, Jongho couldn’t help but notice how Wooyoung had refrained from saying something like ‘She’s okay’ or ‘She’s fine’. “We need to move her though, she can’t stay here. The fighting could shift at any moment without her.”

“What do you need.” Razor’s Edge asked, looking at Wooyoung with serious eyes. Once upon a time Urban Hex and Razor’s Edge, a hero transplant from San Francisco named Tiffany, had belonged to the same agency. Jongho couldn’t imagine what it would be like to see former teammate unresponsive on the ground like this. He wondered how long it had been since Tiffany saw Taeyeon last, if this would be Tiffany’s last memory of her. 

“I’m afraid to move her without some sort of support.” Wooyoung was saying. “We need to hold her neck still and we need some way to lift her securely.”

“No problem.” Tiffany said, she moved her hands quickly and soon the thin, almost invisible wires that excreted from her fingertips like spider silk began to form a thick band. She fit the collar around Taeyeon’s neck and continued to build it up. There was a clattering noise and the three of them looked up to see Wooyoung’s father standing next to them, two sturdy poles he must have stolen from somewhere lying next to them on the concrete. Tiffany let out a noise of appreciation and began to weave a loose net between them. There was a thin layer of sweat breaking out on her brow, whether from how quickly she was working or if she was straining the limits of her Quirk, Jongho didn’t know.

“Better than nothing…” Wooyoung mumbled to himself as he and his father carefully slid Urban Hex’s still body into the netting and then lifted her up. “Let’s head for the gym, come on.” 

“I have to go back.” Razor’s Edge said, looking after her former teammate sadly, like she wanted to follow her. 

“I’ll go with you.” Jongho said.

“Jongho, you  _ can’t _ -” His mother started but he shook his head.

“Eomma, this is my  _ job _ . What did you think I’d be doing once I graduated? What do you think I’ve _ been _ doing out in the field with Eden and the others?”

“I know!” She cried, “I know! It’s just-It’s different to see it upclose. To watch it happening right in front of me. You’re my son and-” A scream echoed in the distance. She threw her arm out, pointing in the direction of the sound. “And those people are hurting! I could lose you. This isn’t-” She took a stuttering breath, “Whoever is out there, they aren’t bank robbers or petty criminals. Those people don’t need to be rescued from an accident. Someone came here to  _ hurt  _ them. Hurt  _ us _ .”

“I know. And I have to go stop them.” Jongho said, firm, but he couldn’t find it in himself to meet her eyes.

“Be safe.” Wooyoung asserted and Jongho nodded. They didn’t have their gear. They were in their school uniforms. There was no time to go and change. There would be nothing but their quirks between them and the battle, and it was probably the same for any other students who had joined the fray. It couldn’t be helped. 

“I will.”

He let Razor’s Edge wrap a sturdy length of wire around his waist and was lifted with her into the air, over the top of the cafeteria. He watched until the last second, as long as he could keep them in sight as Wooyoung and his father hoisted Urban Hex up in between them and carried her off to the safety of the gym. 

Razor’s Edge cleared the building, cutting them off from sight. Jongho gasped when he saw the scene unfolding before him. 

The front lawn sprawling out in front of the cafeteria smouldered with craters torn into the dirt and trees mowed down by shockwaves caused by innumerable explosions. Students in uniform fought right alongside their Pro Hero parents and teachers, attempting to keep what seemed like a literal wave of low level criminals from invading further into campus. Amidst it all walked a woman Jongho recognized well. 

She was beautiful, dressed to the nines as always. Long silky hair hanging well past her hips and designer heels digging little divots in the grass as she moved. A lazy flick of her fingers manifested a sound like a gunshot and it  _ was  _ one. Except the bullets she shot exploded on contact. It appeared she wasn’t aiming at anyone in particular, just delighting in causing chaos. Even through all the smoke and debris Jongho recognized her immediately. 

Bullet Pulse. 

A powerful S-Ranked Villain known for being, to put it simply, unhinged. She never hid. She showed her face proudly. The internet was full of her videos where, again, she took a particular delight in causing chaos simply for chaos sake. It appeared that she often just said whatever she wanted, even if it didn’t line up with her previously stated views; going off on tangents about whatever perceived injustice that had set her off most recently. Her followers were fanatic and didn’t seem to care if she was inconsistent. They went where she said and did what she said without question. 

For the past two years they had been terrorizing the city. Vandalism, petty theft, and public harassment escalating slowly until it all culminated in the derailing of a train three months ago. Jongho had worked on the rescue and clean-up with the other members of Edenary and it had been one of the most horrific things he’d ever seen. 

There had been a small breakthrough in the case, however. One of Bullet Pulse’s favorite followers had been captured and ever since she had repeatedly, rabidly, demanded his release. Like a child who had their favorite toy taken away, she raged and threw tantrums. Threatened to burn the city to the ground if he wasn’t released to her. Promised that the person who had captured him would pay. 

Then, inexplicably, about a month ago she had fallen silent. No more videos, no more screaming wild eyed into the camera, no more threats. Even the seemingly never ending acts of vandalism in her name stopped cold. 

Rumors abounded at the school that the person who had captured her man had been a third year. He wasn’t in Jongho’s class, but he was a well known hero-in-training, having signed on with his family run agency as an intern as soon as he finished his first year. Skilled but fairly middle of the road. Nothing impressive. No wonder he bragged about the achievement, even with all the threats Bullet Pulse frothed forth every single day for  _ weeks. _

And now she was her; exactly where she’d said she would be, doing exactly what she always did.

Tiffany set Jongho down at the edge of the fighting, her wires retracting and curling around her wrists, ready to be deployed at a moment’s notice. 

“Good luck.” She said, and then she was off and running, engaging with an enemy who had been bearing down on a group of first year Support Students too terrified to use their Quirks to defend themselves. 

It was a madhouse. Chaos. People running every which way. Villains, Heroes, students, faculty, and family alike. He couldn’t see her anymore, the crazed mastermind behind it all, but he knew she thrived on it. The more she delighted in the panic the higher her heart rate soared, the more powerful her bullets became; and soon, she would begin to turn those bullets on people. And those people would die. 

Near the middle of their first year the students in the Hero Studies program had been encouraged to try to develop a special and unique way to use their Quirks. Wooyoung had been the one to suggest that Jongho try to make his love for singing into something powerful. It had felt awkward at first, embarrassing in a way, to just burst into song in the middle of a city street or in a crowded mall. What would he even sing about? Did it matter? After some practice he’d realized that what he sang didn’t matter. It wasn’t the same as when he was using his Quirk on just one person, when the things he said were meant to suggest and cajole, this was more about how the people he was influencing felt subconsciously. It wasn’t about changing how they  _ thought  _ it was about changing how they  _ felt _ . The emotions that he put into his songs were what mattered the most. So he sang, anything and everything that matched the mood he wanted to set. 

This sort of situation was tricky. Because he would be influencing everyone around him he didn’t want to inspire confidence. The villains would feel it, too. He didn’t want to try for nervousness or fear either and risk empowering Bullet Pulse even more. His only option was calm. Peace. Try to lull everyone into a false sense of tranquility just long enough to distract her, power her down, and give someone a chance to take her out. 

He opened his mouth and sang. Belted it out as loud as he could while filling his voice with all of the hope and placidity he could conjure up out of his own panicked heart. Those closest to him jerked as a wave of ataraxy hit them. Shoulders dropped and heads drooped, weapons clattered to the ground. It was working. Jongho took a few hesitant steps forward, moving deeper into the fray and leaving those he’s already pulled under his spell behind. His own ears were ringing. He’d never done something like this before, never poured so much of his power into one song like this. The combatants followed along behind him like he was some sort of Pied Piper. He worried about it for just a moment, but he couldn’t concentrate on it for very long or else he risked breaking the spell. 

“Keep going, kid!” A Pro Hero called out, giving him a thumbs up. “Whatever you’re doing, keep fucking going, holy  _ shit- _ ”

He glanced to the side, saw a group of Pros standing with their hands clamped firmly over their ears. Eden was one of them, watching Jongho with a proud smile. Hongjoong was next to him, working to convert chunks of what looked like had once been one of the school’s pretty park benches into noise canceling headphones. Hongjoong handed each pair off to a Pro and they sprung into action, pulling the villains who had fallen under Jongho’s spell away from the small crowd following him and restraining them or leading the students away to safety. 

Eden’s power worked a bit differently from Hongjoong’s. While Hongjoong could reform any matter into pretty much anything he wanted as long as he  _ understood  _ how the thing he was creating worked on a fundamental level, Eden reconstructed things. Hand him a broken weapon and he would hand it right back to you minutes later fully functioning and ready to go. He could recreate destroyed documents, fried hard drives, and wiped cell phones with different levels of success depending on how they’d been damaged in the first place. It was one of the biggest reasons Hongjoong had been so adamant about being his Sidekick. Their Quirks were so similar, it just made sense. 

Together, they made quick work of creating restraints for the captured villains, the detritus of battle reforming into cuffs under Hongjoong’s talented hands and the single metal links Eden pulled from his pockets multiplying rapidly to form long, sturdy chains to restrain the more threatening Quirks. 

Jongho left them behind. The lawn was much clearer now, small pockets of fighting remaining farther down the hill surrounding the point where he’d last seen Bullet Pulse. She would notice what he was doing soon, he was sure of it. It would make him a target. He tried not to let that fear slip into his voice as he steeled himself and made his way down the hill. He edged as close to the pockets of fighting as he could, catching them by surprise. Most of the villains here were stronger, more powerful, and didn’t fall under a trance in the same way the smaller fish had, but it did distract them long enough for the Pros to get the upper hand. 

He should have been paying closer attention to what was going on around him. Even with the thought that he had essentially painted a giant target on his own back having run through his mind only moments ago, it still took him by surprise when the ground beneath his feet exploded. He was thrown backwards, a spray of earth, rocks, and soil raining down around him as he lay in a daze on the ruined lawn. She could have killed him right then and there, but she was crazy. Deranged. Instead she chose to leap on him, perfectly manicured nails like claws digging into his throat as she bared her teeth at him and screamed in his face, pure frustration and rage. 

“You little brats!” She shrieked. “This school is a breeding ground for  _ filth _ .” Spit speckled against Jongho’s cheek and he choked, voice stolen from him by the vice like grip she had on his throat. “I’ll kill you all. I’ll take you from them like they took him from me.” Her nails broke his skin, the sharp sting of it less jolting than the feeling of his own blood pouring in hot rivulets down his throat to pool in his collarbones and drip onto the grass below. 

Jongho reached up, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and  _ yanked,  _ catching her off guard long enough for him to throw her to the side and scramble to his feet. He coughed all the way up, trying desperately to clear his throat. 

“You don’t want to do this.” He croaked, throwing as much Confidence into his voice as he could. She cocked her head, a curious look falling over her pretty features. 

“I don’t?’

“No.” Jongho shook his head. “You don’t want to hurt people. Why would you? You’re a good person, aren’t you?”

“You think I’m a good person?” She blinked at him, that same curious smile stretching her lips wide. “Me?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” He asked, shrugging. Blood still trickled down his throat and his whole body ached from being thrown into the air by the blast. 

“Because I’m about to kill you.” She laughed, eyes wild. 

This wasn’t working. She wasn’t listening to him, not really. Or else she was immune, somehow. She raised a hand and he flinched, expecting a bullet to materialize and fly at him. She cackled, covering her mouth as she laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever seen.

“Are you afraid of me, little boy?” She giggled, “That’s not very  _ heroic _ of you.” 

“Even heroes can be afraid.” He said. He hesitated to take his eyes off of her but he allowed himself a quick glance around. Up at the top of the hill he saw Wooyoung being held back by Eden. He seemed to be struggling to get to him, but Jongho was grateful Eden held him back. Wooyoung didn’t have any of his equipment and his Quirk would be just as useless as Jongho’s down here, unless he could get close enough to Bullet Pulse to knock her out before she blew him up. They needed someone who could sneak up on her or nullify her quirk somehow. Jongho just had to keep her busy until then. 

Jongho shouldn’t have looked away. 

Jongho was tall, not the tallest in his class but tall enough that standing next to people who were a little bit more height challenged like Hongjoong made them look short. Even still, somehow, Bullet Pulse managed to reach up and hook her manicured claws into his hair. She yanked, catching Jongho off guard, knocking him off balance, and tearing a pained yelp from his throat. 

With her palm pressed flat against his skull it was like all his training left him. All the grappling, all the throws, all the different ways he had learned to fight and defend himself over the years suddenly abandoned him. Or rather, he couldn’t think of a way to save himself. As long as she could lay a hand on him, Jongho was as good as dead. 

At least this way it would be fast, Jongho thought. Fast, but messy. He hoped someone covered Wooyoung’s eyes. Turned him away. Something. Jongho didn’t want the last time Wooyoung ever saw him alive to be him having his freaking head blown off by a maniac in front of the school cafeteria. 

Bullet Pulse tightened her grip in Jongho’s hair, so tight he felt strands rip free of his scalp by the root. The next thing he knew there was a blast that shook the ground and Jongho was dragged up into the air, the burning sting in his scalp becoming an all consuming shriek of pain as he was pulled through the air by his hair, wickedly pointed nails digging in as she laughed like she was enjoying the ride of her life.

She must have used her other hand to aim a blast at the ground, propelling herself into the air and taking Jongho with her. 

When his feet touched the ground again Jongho’s knees collapsed from the sudden impact. 

That hadn’t been a controlled fall, no, they’d fallen from an incredible height. His legs ached in a way that spoke of damage he was too shocked to actually feel. The numbness he’d gotten from the hit of gas he’d inhaled via proximity with Wooyoung earlier had worn off and the fall had agitated his shoulder; the mangled skin under his once clean, white uniform shirt bleeding heavily again. The whole mess throbbed in a way that spoke of cracked bones and butchered cartilage. 

Jongho knelt there on the concrete. He wasn’t sure his legs would ever support his body weight again. Bullet Pulse shook his head violently from side to side. 

“Come on out, Mirror Mask!” She screamed, her voice echoing around the thoroughfare, mixing with the sound of the fountain. She had blasted them right back to where he’d come from. He hoped their family was safe in the gym; far, far away from this maniac. “Come out before I blow this kid’s head off!” 

Jongho rifled through his brain at high speed, trying to put a face and a name to the Hero. Mirror Mask, he remembered through a painful, woozy lurch in his stomach as she dragged him and his one definitely broken leg closer to the fountain, was a third year just like him in class 3-C. His real name was Bae Siwoong and he was average. Average height, average looks, average grades. A very unassuming individual, he wasn’t especially strong. He never ranked very high when it came to physical training or combat classes, and Jongho knew he had to take his licensing exam three times. His only redeeming factor was his Quirk. The ability to rearrange his face to make himself look like anyone. It didn’t even have any fancy qualifiers. He didn’t have to touch them, have a piece of their hair, consume their blood, anything crazy like that. All he simply had to do was see their face. A picture, in person, on tv, and then suddenly he was them; at least in the face. He couldn’t change his voice, but he was a very fast mimic. He couldn’t change his body but his average height and build came in handy for that as well. Maybe that was why he never pushed himself when it came to physical training. It made him very popular with hero agencies that specialized in stealth and espionage. 

Jongho knew that Bae Siwoong wouldn’t be stepping out of a building to save him. He didn’t even want him to try, because Jongho knew against Bullet Pulse a hero like Mirror Mask would die. Point blank. It wouldn’t even be a struggle. More than anything, if Siwoong was even anywhere nearby and inclined to help, he hoped someone was holding him back the same way Eden had been holding Wooyoung back on the hillside. 

Holy shit,  _ Wooyoung _ . 

The fog that had descended on Jongho’s brain lifted suddenly and he reached up, grabbing onto Bullet Pulse’s wrist as he  _ twisted  _ his body, flailing like a caught fish on a line. It wasn’t the most graceful maneuver he’d ever performed but he did manage to break her grip. He collapsed to the ground and in a rush immediately tried to stumble to his feet but,  _ wow _ , yeah, his left leg was definitely broken. He collapsed back down onto his hands and knees, and managed to crawl a few paces before her foot crashed down on his back. She was so  _ strong  _ for someone so slight. 

“Slippery little bitch.” She sneered, grinding the heel of her designer pump between his shoulder blades. He cried out, struggling to flip over onto his back. He swept his good leg out and caught her right behind the knees, sending her tumbling to the ground with a shrill scream. He grabbed onto the edge of the fountain and hauled himself to his feet, his shoulder throbbed like the personification of white noise. He hobbled around the far side, every step causing his leg to scream out in pain. 

One of the water-spewing concrete protrusions, dangerously close to where his head had been moments before, exploded in a rain of pulverized rubble. 

“Stop!” He gasped, trying to make the Command forceful enough to break through her psychosis, her rage, her  _ whatever  _ it was that was keeping him from getting through to her.

“You heroes are all the same.” She scoffed, “So brave, right up until you realize you’re going to die. Then you crawl away like a pathetic little worm.  _ Hiding. _ ” She was no longer aiming shots with a lazy flick of her fingertips. She held her arm up now, hand shaped like a pistol, like she was holding a honest to goodness gun leveled at his head. The tip of her index finger glowed. She dropped her thumb like the hammer of a gun and fired. Jongho closed his eyes.

The pain of an energy blast tearing it’s way through his skull never happened, instead, it was Bullet Pulse who screamed. Jongho opened his eyes and what was left of his heart dropped into his stomach. Wooyoung was holding her down. He’d tackled her, it seemed, and was situated above her now, straddling her hips to keep her pinned to the ground and holding her wrists high above her head. 

He leaned over, and to the casual observer, it might have looked like he was going to kiss her. Instead, he stopped, lips hovering just above her own as he exhaled a cloud of gas that seemed to shimmer in the light. Her eyes widened for just a second before they drooped and then closed, and her body fell lax. Wooyoung held her for a moment longer, dragging desperate lungfuls of air into his chest. He must have sprinted all the way there while holding his breath. Patches of red road high on his cheeks, his eyes looked a little glazed, and the inky darkness of his bangs stuck to the sweat beading along his forehead. 

Wooyoung stumbled to his feet, left Bullet Pulse behind on the ground unconscious as he tore around to the fountain to get to Jongho. His hands fell on Jongho’s shoulders, fluttering nervously when Jongho hissed in pain. They travelled down his arms, squeezed Jongho’s hands, felt across his chest, and then danced back up to cup his jaw as his eyes darted around Jongho’s face.

“I thought I was going to be too late. I thought you were going to be dead. I-I thought-” Wooyoung leaned in and captured his lips, hands sliding up to curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Holy shit, Jongho, I thought you were dead.” Wooyoung whimpered against his lips. 

“I’m fine, Young-ah.” Jongho chuckled, but holy shit, he’d thought he was dead, too. The chuckled turned wet, tears gathering quickly in the corners of his eyes. “But I think my leg is broken. And my shoulder.”

“That doesn’t sound like you’re fine.” Wooyoung laughed wetly. “I can’t believe this was the second time I had to save your life.”

“You didn’t save my life the first time, you just saved me from failing a test.”

“And thus guaranteed you got into the school of your dreams, therefore, I saved your life.”

They could hear running footsteps coming up the thoroughfare and Jongho looked up just in time to see Eden, Hongjoong, and a few other Pros running towards them at breakneck speeds. With his good arm Jongho pulled Wooyoung close and pressed a kiss to his hair, just above his ear. They only had seconds before they reached them, but there was something Jongho wanted to say. Something he had to say right now, before he lost the courage that facing his own death had given him.

“I love you.” Jongho whispered, just loud enough for Wooyoung to hear him over the play of the fountain and the pounding of booted feet. 

Wooyoung looked up at him with wide eyes, hands fisted in the front of Jongho’s ruined shirt.

“Jongho-yah, I-I love you, too. I-”

“What the hell happened?” Eden barked, running to crouch next to Bullet Pulse’s unconscious form. He pulled a link from one of his and the sound of it rapidly multiplying, clinking together as it formed a neat loop on the ground, was almost soothing. The Pros were here. Eden was here. Everything was okay now. 

A young man stood next to Hongjoong, one Jongho immediately recognized as Bae Siwoong; Mirror Mask, in the flesh. He looked at the prone form of Bullet Pulse on the ground with a pale, horrified face.

“She was here b-because of me.” He whispered. “I heard her. Calling my name.” He looked up as Jongho and shuddered. “Y-you almost  _ died _ because of me.”

Jongho shook his head, leaning on Wooyoung as he helped him make his way over to them. “No, not because of you. It didn’t matter who captured him, she would have reacted the same way. The fact that you were a student just gave her an easy target.”

Siwoong cringed at being spoken to directly. He really was plain. Unassuming. If Jongho saw him standing in a crowd out of his Yongung Tech uniform Jongho never would have guessed he was anything special. Just another kid with a small, everyday Quirk. 

Eden pulled a padlock from one of his many pockets, clicking it into place to hold the chains wrapped around Bullet Pulse’s wrists. Her lashes fluttered, but she showed no signs of waking up any time soon. Jongho thought Eden was a strange guy. His costume made him look like a handyman for hire. Tool belt, cargo pants with pockets full of odds and ends, rings made of twisted bits of things he could pull off and build back up into a whole at a moment's notice. He looked unassuming. Ordinary, other than a more handsome than average face and a shock of blonde hair that Jongho had never figured was natural or if it came from a bottle. Maybe Mirror Mask was like Eden. Power hidden away behind a facade of the unassuming and the mundane. 

“They’re bringing transport around so we can load her up and get her out of here.” Razor’s Edge said, “I’m going to head over to the gym and check on Urban Hex.” She lifted up off the ground on a support system of wires and disappeared over the top of a nearby building on her way to Gym A. 

Eden stood up, leaving Bullet Pulse behind bound up and ready to be transported to a safe location. 

“You okay, kid?” He asked Jongho, “How’s your neck? She really just took off with you, huh? Probably a better alignment that your chiropractor could ever give you!” He barked out a laugh. “Bet your spine has never felt so straight! Free halo traction, hell, I bet you might even be a centimeter or two taller for the next couple of days until you compress back down.” Eden chuckled like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

“Hyung!” Hongjoong said, rolling his eyes and bury his face in his hands to hide his exasperated smile.

“I’m okay, sir.” Jongho gave him a pained smile. “Gonna need to see a medic though. I got kind of busted up. Might not be able to join you in the field right away after graduation.”

“None of that ‘sir’ bullshit, kid. You just went head to head with a Big Bad. I think you can call me ‘hyung’ now without feeling too awkward about it, don’t you?”

“Okay, hyung.” Jongho said, squeezing Wooyoung against his side.

“Thank you, hyung.” Wooyoung beamed. 

“Ah, you kids.” Eden grumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck as he turned away, but the tips of his ears were red. He took Siwoong by the elbow and said, “So. Mirror Mask was it? We don’t have anyone with your skillset on our team just yet. How about after graduation you swing by and we can do a few trial runs, see how you fit in with the team? I think with you working together with Modem and Dispatch, we could create something special.”

“Thank you, Eden-sunbaenim, for the offer.” Mirror Mask glanced nervously to the side. The kid really didn’t seem to like to be noticed. Jongho wondered why he’d done all that bragging after he captured Bullet Pulse’s foot soldier. Maybe it hadn’t been him at all. Maybe it was an overbearing friend. He didn’t seem like the type to talk himself up at all. “But I already belong to an agency. My grandfather founded one, you see, and I’ve been signed to it for a few years now. My parents would be disappointed if I left for another agency.”

“That’s alright, just keep my offer in mind.” 

Eden and Mirror Mask talked back and forth, but Jongho tuned them out. He leaned over and rested his chin on the top of Wooyoung’s head. Maybe Eden was right, he did feel a bit taller. He snickered a bit at the thought. That was probably a sign that he was getting to that place where his adrenaline was beginning to wear off, the fact that he was starting to laugh at the slightest provocation. 

There was a bed in the infirmary calling Jongho’s name. Jongho looked down at Wooyoung and opened his mouth to suggest that he lead the way-

The explosion was enough to make him stumble but not quite enough to knock him off his feet. It was, however, enough for Bullet Pulse to destroy the padlock and a good portion of the chains looped around her wrists. 

It wasn’t a big explosion, her heartbeat must have still been sluggish and unsteady from the faceful of gas Wooyoung had given her, but as she flew up from the ground and launched herself at a stumbling gait across the concrete he could see the fury mounting behind her eyes. 

This was a woman who let her emotions control her completely. Her emotions were her power, her heart rate was her only barrier between her and how much damage she could cause. This girl lived inside her own head, let her emotions rule her so completely that she had long since forgotten to care about anything but what she wanted, think about anyone but herself. 

She was consumed by it, this single minded need to get what she wanted at all times. And what Bullet Pulse wanted, was Mirror Mask’s head on a pike. 

She lunged for Siwoong and Jongho didn’t stop to think; he lunged too. He pushed away from Wooyoung and threw his arms around her waist, dragging her to the ground. 

“You!” She slurred, still groggy but so full of bitter rage. “I’m tired of you. Get out of my way!” She brought her hand down against his bad shoulder and  _ boom!  _ The blast was point blank and Jongho screamed, but didn’t let go. Concentrated like that, it was like she’d held the muzzle of a gun against his flesh and pulled the trigger. The energy bullet tore through his flesh and out the other side, digging a hole in the concrete. “I  _ said _ ,” She huffed, sliding her hand down across his chest until it rested over his heart. “Let go.”

Her eyes were dead. The sneer on her lips disfigured her lovely face. She was going to kill him this time for sure. Right in front of Wooyoung. In front of Eden and Hongjoong. They were running towards him, all three of them, but they’d never get there in time. No one got that lucky, not twice in one day. 

Jongho had resigned himself to die on two separate occasions already that day. He had closed his eyes and waited for death, only for the final blow to never come. Maybe it was the fact that he’d survived twice that made him so desperate to survive the third time. That he’d managed to evade death before made him feel like closing his eyes and waiting for it to happen  _ this time _ would mean he had given up. Everything hurt. His shoulder hurt, his leg hurt, his  _ heart  _ hurt. It was like all that hurt and frustration and desire to live, desire to thwart fate a third time and walk away from this, welled up in his throat and then burst from his lips in a scream of anguish. 

Bullet Pulse reared back, hands flying to cover her ears. She screwed her eyes shut and her voice joined his in a cry of pain. It was like, once he let go of everything he’d been holding onto, he couldn’t stop. The shriek continued to pour from his lungs as his brain went foggy. There was a pop and Jongho felt a warm trickle of blood flowing from his own ears. Decibel after decibel, the sonic shriek creeped higher and higher until Hongjoong, Eden, Wooyoung, and Bae Siwoong were brought to their knees, blood trickling down their jaws from ruptured ear drums and, finally, Bullet Pulse’s eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped over to the side, motionless. 

The last thing Jongho realized before he fell into the abyss was that he was crying, bawling with great sobs wracking his chest but he couldn’t hear the sound of his own weeping.

\---

In the days that followed, Jongho’s life fell to pieces. 

First, Bullet Pulse died. 

His newfound ability had produced a concentrated wave topping off near 210 Db, rupturing her lungs and boring straight into her brain, hemorrhaging the delicate tissue. 

Wooyoung and the others had only survived being permanently deafened because Hongjoong had managed to cram some of the leftover soundproof headphones over their ears, and even then they’d all suffered from ruptured ear drums. Jongho himself had to undergo a surgical repair, but luckily the others were able to heal naturally. 

There was one person who wasn’t so lucky.

No one knew how Kyungmin happened to be so close to the fighting. The last time Wooyoung’s mother remembered seeing him was in the small nurses office located in the locker room of Gym A. Razor’s Edge had arrived, looking for Urban Hex, bringing with her the news that Jongho and Wooyoung had brought down Bullet Pulse. 

The next thing they knew, they looked up and Kyungmin was gone; no longer sitting in the corner with the snacks his mother had found in her purse. The handheld game one of the first years had lent him lay abandoned on the floor. 

The child must have been so excited to hear that his hero big brother had brought down the villain that he’d gone to see it with his own eyes. Kyungmin had been on the farside of the fountain, enough to shield his small body from the devastating effects of Jongho’s Sonic Shriek, but not enough to save his ears. 

By the time Jongho awoke, two weeks had already passed and the doctors had determined that Kyungmin’s hearing loss was permanent. Two weeks ago, Jongho was going to be a hero. Now, he was a murderer. He had used his power to kill and he had hurt someone irreparably. A child. Hurt them so badly that no one could help them. Hurt them so badly that the fabric of this child’s life was forever changed. Kyungmin would grow up with a disability that Jongho was directly responsible for. 

When they brought Kyungmin to see him the boy was smiling, excited to see him. The first thing he told Jongho, in a voice that was just a bit too loud, was ‘thank you for saving everyone’. And then Kyungmin told him that he wasn’t mad at Jongho for his ears. Wooyoung’s mother stood behind him, resolutely not looking at Jongho and Jongho couldn’t look at her either. 

It was hard to watch Kyungmin struggle. He was so young, his reading wasn’t the best. They had already started him with a sign language tutor, and the rest of the family, too, but it would take time. Jongho watched as the boy grew tired and frustrated with trying to read the things his family and the nursing staff wrote down on the pad of paper for him. He watched as they struggled to use the few signs they could remember to try to get their point across. 

When Kyungmin finally burst into tears, the nurses hurried him and his mother away. One nurse stayed behind to reassure Jongho that it wasn’t his fault, this was all normal, Kyungmin was young, smart, strong. He would adjust and before too long he wouldn’t even remember that it had been any other way. 

But Jongho would remember. And the sight of Wooyoung’s mother’s retreating back told him that she would remember, too.

It was when Wooyoung came to see him was when Jongho realized that there was no quota on misery for people, no quantifiable threshold that once reached, a person was miraculously taken out of the distress pool. Wooyoung sat next to Jongho’s bed, fingers threaded through the hand of Jongho’s good arm, but he wouldn’t look at Jongho either. Wooyoung stared at his lap and Jongho stared at the wall. 

Wooyoung left an hour later and didn’t come back for three days. Neither of them had ever said a word.

By then Jongho was discharged, released to his parents and sent him to rest and recover. His shoulder had required surgery to repair the damage from the bullet and part of his scapula was held together by a mess of screws, but a doctor with a healing Quirk had hastened the healing process. The fracture in his left leg was well on its way to healed as well, but he had to wear one of those cumbersome aircasts and hobble around on crutches for a few more days just to be safe. 

Jongho was afraid to speak. 

Now that he knew what was inside of him; what his voice could  _ do _ \- it felt like he had a bomb inside his chest just waiting to go off. 

He had killed someone with his voice. 

Bullet Pulse - he’d learned that her real name was Jang Dajung from news stations that was still running almost daily coverage of the attack at Yongung Tech - had been twenty-eight years old at the time of her death. 

When Jang Dajung was thirteen her mother died, the unintended civilian casualty of a villain capture gone wrong. A few months later, she was picked up by local police on some inconsequential shoplifting charges that her absentee CEO father got her out of with a few well placed donations and bribes. Again and again, she committed a series of petty crimes until her pattern of deteriorating behavior culminated in her getting into an altercation with a security guard at a mall who didn’t make it out of the encounter alive. At fifteen, she was admitted into the justice system and assigned a place at a juvenile offenders training center. When she was eighteen her father died. When she was twenty she was released back into polite society, but no one ever came for her. Her family abandoned her, afraid of her violent temper and her even more volatile Quirk. 

She had been alone. Utterly and completely alone, until the man Mirror Mask captured came into her life. The news never mentioned him by name anymore, but Jongho looked him up. Koo Mincheol, a minor thug with a minor fire based Quirk that went by the name Spartan. A dig into public records after Bullet Pulse’s death had led the media to discover that the pair had been married. Koo Mincheol was still locked away somewhere in a secured prison for Quirk based offenders, but from the carefully worded response Eden had given to Jongho’s email, Jongho knew he was still loyal to Jang Dajung, refusing even after her death to reveal the location of her hideout or any potential plans her other followers might be tempted to act on. 

Jongho thought it was sort of beautiful, that Koo Mincheol had loved her so much. 

Someone had loved Jang Dajung that much, and Jongho had murdered her. 

It was a month before Jongho saw Wooyoung again. By then, Jongho’s leg was out of the cast and he was allowed to carefully use his arm a few times a day as long as he kept it in his soft sling most of the time. Wooyoung showed up on his doorstep with a bright smile on his face as always, glanced down at Jongho’s arm and then away again like he was determined not to see it, then asked to come in. 

Jongho let him in, of course. They sat on opposite ends of the couch from each other and Jongho tried not to think about the fact that the last real words they had said to each other were their first real ‘I love you’s and now their eyes kept meeting and then sliding to the side. 

Jongho was a murderer now. 

And he’d deafened Wooyoung’s brother. 

Wooyoung dropped a thick sheaf of papers onto the empty cushion between them, along with a pen. 

“Eden-hyung asked me to bring these to you. He said he hadn’t heard from you, but they need to be signed so he can get the ball rolling on getting you registered as an official Sidekick. It takes a few months, you know? And if you want to be able to go out on cases by the time your shoulder heals we need to get them in now.”

Jongho slowly reached out and picked up the papers, staring at the Edenary Hero Works logo on top and the neat blocks of text below; outlining his pay, responsibilities, duties, and most importantly the Hero’s Code he had to agree to abide by to work as a Pro under the South Korean government. 

His grip tightened, wrinkling the edges and maring the pristine white surface of the contract.

“I don’t want to be a Pro.” Jongho whispered.

“What?” Wooyoung asked, but judging by the way the edges of his persistent smile faltered he’d heard Jongho perfectly clear. “What did you say?”

“I don’t want to be a Pro anymore, Wooyoung.” Jongho said, voice firm even if he couldn’t meet Wooyoung’s eyes. “I can’t.”

“That’s crazy.” Wooyoung laughed. “That’s  _ crazy _ . Jongho-yah, we’ve worked for this our entire lives! What do you mean, you don’t want to be a Pro anymore? What the fuck does that mean?!” He sounded angry now. 

“I can’t, Wooyoung. I didn’t-I didn’t know I could  _ do _ that.” Jongho’s head dropped into his good hand. “How could I not know I could do that?” His voice broke into a distraught whisper over the last part, horrified. 

“That’s bullshit.” Wooyoung slapped a hand down on the back on the couch, scooting closer to Jongho until he could grab the hand of his good arm, prying it away from Jongho’s face to lace their fingers together, just like he had when they sat in the hospital together but Wooyoung couldn’t even bear to look at him. “Jongho, that’s just how Quirks  _ work _ . We get older and they get stronger. People find out that their Quirk isn’t exactly what they thought it was  _ all the time _ . That’s why the registry lets you change things around a few times. They know Quirks develop. Everyone knows that. You’ll learn to control this part, just like you learned to control the other aspects of your Quirk. Just like  _ I  _ learned to control my Quirk.”

“You never killed anyone, Wooyoung.” Jongho snapped, yanking his hand away. “No one has ever  _ died _ because of you.”

“No, but they got pretty damn close.” Wooyoung snarled right back. “Don’t do this, Jongho. Just-just  _ don’t _ . Just sign the fucking contract and let me take it back to Eden. Go see a fucking therapist and move the hell on with your life.”

“Wooyoung, someone is  _ dead _ !” Jongho shook his head.

“ _ And she was a piece of shit! _ ” Wooyoung yelled, “She killed people, Jongho. Lots and lots of people. People-people died that day, Jongho. I know you’ve seen the news. Students, and parents, and Pros. Jongho, she  _ killed  _ people!”

“She was a person, Wooyoung.” Jongho said quietly, “She was a person and someone loved her and I killed her. She doesn’t exist anymore, because of me. Because I couldn’t control my power, she died. What if it had been you? Or Hongjoong? If you’d been any closer to me or in the wrong place, you could have died, too. I can’t risk that  _ ever _ happening again.”

“And what about Kyungmin?” Wooyoung jumped to his feet. “He looks up to you, you know that right? Even after everything, all I ever hear is ‘Jongho-hyung is  _ so cool _ ’ and ‘Jongho-hyung is  _ so strong _ ’. So what, you’re just going to give up? After everything he’s lost because of  _ you _ , you’re going to give up and let him down again? You want me to stand by and watch while he loses his hero, too?”

Jongho flinched. So it was true. Wooyoung did blame him; just like his mother, and probably his father, too. If Eden hadn’t asked him to come today, would Wooyoung even be here? 

Jongho opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t seem to find the words. Only a deep, all consuming sadness. He began to hum without even realizing he was doing it, a mournful tune that still didn’t feel large enough to hold all of his heartbreak. 

Tears welled up in Wooyoung’s eyes and he began to shake. 

“What are you doing?” Wooyoung asked, wiping at the tears streaming down his cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket, “What the fuck are you doing, Jongho. Fuck,  _ stop that _ !” He yelled, his own fury mixing with the wretchedness Jongho’s song was pouring into him. He reached out and slapped Jongho across the face, cutting off the song just as suddenly as it had started. 

Jongho stared up at him in shock.

“ _ What _ is going on in here?!” Jongho’s mother said from the doorway, looking back and forth between them with a look of barely concealed outrage. Wooyoung stared down at Jongho, visibly seething as Jongho raised a hand to his rapidly reddening cheek. “Jung Wooyoung, I think you need to go.” She said, turning to point at the front door.

“I was just leaving.” Wooyoung said, turning without another word and stalking towards the door. He offered Jongho’s mother a small, apologetic bow before he disappeared.

  
  
  


Three months later Jongho enlisted in the military and it was two years before he saw Wooyoung again. 

  
  
  


He learned through the grapevine that Wooyoung had backed out of his contract with Edenary and had enlisted just a few months after he had. Jongho had worked mostly in public relations due to his past injuries and his conflict resolution training from his days at Yongung Tech, but Wooyoung had dived right into the deep end as a combat medic. Their paths never crossed in service, and when they were discharged, they both ended up in Rescue, albeit under different agencies. 

The first time Jongho came across Wooyoung on the scene, he’d been tempted to resign from his post right then and there. Switch agencies and work in a different part of the city. He owed Wooyoung at least that measure of peace. 

But then Wooyoung had approached him, asked Jongho how he’d been, talked to him like he was an old friend. 

Jongho supposed he  _ was  _ an old friend, however the biggest difference between him and the rest of Wooyoung’s former classmates was that Jongho knew what Wooyoung’s lips felt like against his and Jongho still dreamed about the only time they ever said ‘I love you’. 

Wooyoung never brought that up, and sometimes when they talked Wooyoung’s eyes still slid past Jongho’s like he wasn’t seeing him. Maybe that was why it was easier for Jongho to act like Wooyoung annoyed him. It must have been easier for Wooyoung, too, because he seemed to dedicate his  _ life  _ to annoying Jongho. Anytime they worked a scene together Wooyoung inevitably sought him out, pestered him, poked and prodded at him. 

Months turned into years turned into Jongho’s crowd control focused agency headed by Pro Hero Ollounder, along with Wooyoung’s agency lead by Pro Hero Leez - which housed not only Wooyoung’s Rescue based team, but another Ground Zero team - both becoming subsidiaries of Edenary; meaning that in the end, Jongho and Wooyoung ended up working with Eden, Hongjoong, and the others after all. 

Soon every ‘job’ Jongho worked turned into ‘a job, plus Wooyoung’. Dealing with Wooyoung felt like almost as much work to Jongho as dealing with actual villains. He went home after every assignment just as exhausted and emotionally drained on the days he had to have full conversations with Wooyoung as he did on the days he had to soothe entire crowds of panicked civilians in literal disaster areas. 

Jongho saw the way the others looked at them, like they hoped that any day now they’d click and things would fall back into place. They’d become Jongho & Wooyoung again, a unit; but the years seemed to almost yawn between them, and Jongho especially, who still harbored an enormous amount of guilt for what happened to Wooyoung’s brother, didn’t know how to bridge that gap. Jongho also had no confidence in the fact that any efforts he made to mend his relationship with Wooyoung would be well received. Wooyoung might be okay with being work friends, but who would ever say that they wanted the man who had caused their family so much pain to have any kind of real place in their life? Certainly not Jongho, and most certainly he told himself, not Wooyoung. 

\---

Wooyoung led Jongho through the crowd, back over to the area where the residents of the tower watched and waited. A small number of people who had identified themselves as inhabitants of the 32nd floor and Jongho introduced himself to them. With a few careful nudges from his Quirk he was able to calm them down and clear their heads. Wooyoung stood next to him, noting down the details about the fire Jongho coaxed out of them in a little notepad he pulled from his back pocket. 

This was how they usually worked. Wooyoung’s easy going nature paired well with Jongho’s Quirk, making them a solid pair for interviews and interrogations. While it wasn't exactly how Jongho had pictures working with Wooyoung all those years ago, a certain part of his soul was gratified each time they proved that he’d been right when he told himself they would make a great team. 

“I can’t think of anything that might be even a little bit important.” Mrs. Han sniffled into her handkerchief. “I know all the neighbors. They’re all such nice people. Even Mr. Koo, although I haven’t had the chance to speak with him much since he moved in, but the chats we have in the elevator are always pleasant. His wife passed away a few years ago, you see, and he’s still healing from that, the poor dear. So he mostly keeps to himself.” Wooyoung listened intently, nodding along in a sympathetic way. He had always had more patience when it came to the gossips. For some people, it was the stress that made them ramble. For others, they just liked to talk. About people, places, things, rumors. Sometimes it was useful information, and sometimes it wasn’t. 

“He’s new to the building?” Jongho asked, zeroing in on the only piece he thought sounded odd.

“Sure, just moved in about three months ago. Very private man, I don’t think he leaves home very often. He must have a very understanding job, or else I don’t know how he’d have been able to afford- well, our building  _ is  _ rather exclusive, you see. Units sell for just a  _ tad _ more than the average citizen can spend.”

“He’s never mentioned how he earns his money?” 

“He mentioned an inheritance, once.” Mrs. Hong piped up for her place hovering on the edge of the conversation. “He said that his wife was very wealthy, but that he’d only been able to access the money recently.”

“Are you getting all this, Modem?” Jongho asked, turning away from the women as they continued to regal Wooyoung with stories of elevator journeys past. 

“ _ I heard. _ ” Yeosang’s voice said in Jongho’s ear. “ _ San has the fire under control. Pretty much extinguished, I’ve been told. I’m tapped into the building’s records right now. Looks like unit 32-E was purchased four months ago under the name Koo Minwoo. Standby while I run a few checks _ .”

“Was Mr. Koo home today?” Wooyoung was asking. “Did you see him evacuate with the rest of the residents?”

“Oh, sure.” Mrs. Hong said cheerfully, despite the shaking pomeranian in her arms. “He came down with the rest of us first thing as soon as the fire alarms started going off.” She frowned in concern, looking up at the building and the thin tendrils of smoke still pouring from the side. “It must have been one doozy of a fire, if the building’s sprinkler system couldn’t smother it. Top of the line, you see. I heard the whole floor is absolutely gutted. Mr. Hong would have been devastated,  _ devastated  _ if he had lived to see the day. I’ll have lost everything I imagine, photos and his clothes and,  _ oh _ , all his books-” Her words cut off in a tiny sob, one hand flying up to clutch at her mouth. The tiny dog in her arms jumped up to lick at her cheek and Jongho found himself humming a small tune; one of understanding, fond memories, and forgiveness. 

Wooyoung’s eyes snapped to him and Jongho almost cut himself off, almost stopped the comforting tune he was weaving out of guilt, but this was part of his job and Mrs. Hong was already starting to calm down, her sobs trailing off into sad little sniffles as she buried her face in the tawny fur of her yappy little dog. 

“I’m sorry, please forgive me.” She murmured, offering them a bow that Wooyoung quickly helped her up from.

“Not at all, don’t you dare apologize. This was a big, scary, sad thing.” He returned her bow, low and respectful. “Thank you for your time. If you have anyone who can care for you, you are free to go. If not, I can take you to someone who can arrange a place for you to stay.”

“Thank you, I would appreciate that. My daughter is overseas, she got such a nice job offer from a company in Canada and she just couldn’t pass it up. It was alright before Mr. Hong passed away, but now I’m afraid I’m all alone now…” She tucked her hand in the crook of Wooyoung’s arm and Wooyoung flashed Jongho a quick smile before he led her away, nodding along as she chattered. 

Mrs. Han assured Jongho that her grandson was already on the way to pick her up and after accepting one last grandmotherly pat on the cheek, Jongho moved through the crowd to continue the interviews alone. 

There was a young family next. A frazzled looking mother with two toddlers and a harried young executive of a father who lived in 32-C. They hadn’t seen anything. They were actually out when the fire started and arrived to find the evacuation already in progress. Two childless women that Mrs. Han had referred to as ‘spinsters’ lived in 32-A and Jongho exchanged a knowing look with them when Ms. Lee reached out to hold Ms. Kim’s hand in comfort. At each stop he asked them if they could point him in the direction of Mr. Koo, who lived in apartment 32-E. Each time he was pointed farther away from the road.

“Mr. Koo?” He called out, spying a man standing alone, staring up at the building with a perplexed frown. “Mr. Koo? My name is Siren, I’m here with Edenary Hero Works as a member of the 102nd Rescue Squad. I’ve been asked to take some time and interview those who lived on the 32nd floor. Could I trouble you for a short interview?”

The man lowered his chin, looked at Jongho with unseeing eyes, and for just a moment Jongho thought he might need to repeat himself, then the man blinked. He smiled and extended a hand to Jongho, shaking it vigorously. 

“Siren, Siren.” He repeated, “I think I’ve heard your name before. You must be quite the Pro.”

“Technically I’m not a Pro, sir.” Jongho returned his smile. “I just work for Rescue.”

“Ah, I don’t know why the government insists on making the distinction. You still get to use your Quirk out in public, don’t you? You still have to have a license and a hero name. I don’t think you parents named you ‘Siren’, did they, young man?”

“I don’t fight villains.” Jongho asserted, “I’m only allowed to use my Quirks in combat in case of an emergency; because I’m a member of Rescue, not a Pro Hero.”

“Well you don’t fight them  _ anymore _ .” Mr. Koo said, his smile stretching wider. There was something familiar about his face, but Jongho was having trouble placing him.

“Excuse me?” Jongho asked, confused.

“You want to ask me about the fire, right? Did I see anything? Hear anything?” Mr. Koo turned and walked down a nearby alley, away from the hustle and bustle of the main street. He gestured over his shoulder for Jongho to follow him. “It’ll be easier for us to talk over here.”

The alley was narrow, barely enough space for a trellis of fire escapes to worm their way down between one building and the next. If Jongho stretched his arms out to either side, his fingertips would graze the walls. The ground below was crowded with an assortment of metal trash cans, abandoned cardboard boxes, and a lone office chair next to a pile of ruined carpet and torn wallpaper that must have been left over from a recent apartment renovation.

“What if I said I did see something, Siren? What would you do to me then?” Mr. Koo leered at him. Turning back to face Jongho, he shoved his hands in his pockets and adopted a relaxed stance as he leaned one shoulder against the grimy brick wall. Jongho’s eyes were immediately drawn down to his hands, his combat training screaming at him to keep an eye out for a weapon. It was only then that recalled seeing Mr. Koo earlier, standing in the crowd just before Wooyoung had called Jongho away. He had been the man moving his fingers, sparks flying from them over and over again like a nervous habit. 

Jongho frowned, “Nothing, sir. I would only take down your words and pass them on to the police. It’s not Rescue’s job to investigate, just like it’s not the pros job to determine guilt or mete out justice. We only ever work in our designated scope of practice; that’s the law.” 

“If only that were true.” Mr. Koo scoffed. “The world we live in would be much safer, don’t you think, Siren? If heroes,  _ young _ heroes in particular, learned their place?” Mr. Koo’s smile was so wide now that it looked like it must hurt. The corners of his mouth would burst any second and Jongho would have to call Wooyoung over here to patch him up. This wasn’t the first time Jongho had come across someone who didn’t believe in heroes; who thought that all heroes believed they were above the law and that they benefited from the blind eye that the government was turning to their misdeeds. That just meant Jongho would have to be careful how he used his Quirk here, if he even used it at all. He couldn’t give this man any kind of ammunition to use against him later on.

“Mr. Koo, do you have any useful information for me?” Jongho asked, maintaining a pleasant smile. 

“I’m sure that I don’t.” Mr. Koo shrugged. “Only if you think that a mysterious masked young man hanging around the service elevator is suspicious. I’m certain that I’d never seen him a day in my life before today. The service elevator is right across the hall from my front door. Noisy, but that just meant I got a better deal on my place. Not that it matters now, it’s all a burned husk of what it used to be, isn’t it? Isn’t that just how life works, Choi Jongho? One day you have everything and then the next it’s gone. Snatched away by some punk kid?’

“ _ -Siren, do not approach Mr. Koo. _ ” Yeosang’s voice barked in his ear suddenly. Jongho realized that he hadn’t heard anything from his ear piece in a few minutes. The background chatter of the other pros was something he was so used to tuning out, he didn’t tend to listen unless he heard his name or someone started yelling. Yeosang’s voice sounded panicked, like he’d been trying to contact Jongho for a minute. “ _ I repeat, Siren, do not approach Mr. Koo. Hongjoong found accelerant marks all over his apartment, the fire originated there. Something isn’t right, but I’m tracing the money he used to purchase his unit back to its origin. I just need a few more minutes to isolate the bank account. Siren, do you copy? I repeat do not _ -”

“I hear you, Modem. I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” Jongho raised a hand to his ear piece, opening his mic up so he could respond. 

“ _ Jongho, where are you? _ ” That was Wooyoung, and he was doing a poor job of masking the note of panic in his voice. “ _ Jongho, do you remember what Bullet Pulse’s husband’s name was? Jongho, it was Koo _ .”

“ _ Motherfucker _ .” Yeosang swore, the picture of unprofessionalism. “ _ Siren, he’s right. Koo Minwoo is -was- the first cousin of Koo Mincheol. Koo Minwoo is dead, died last year right after Koo Mincheol escaped from the rehabilitation center he had been released to for good behavior. I’m pulling up pictures now-I’ve got a visual-shit shit Jongho that’s him, they’re the same guy! You’ve got to get out of there SHIT, Jongho the money he used to purchase the apartment came from an account under Jang Dajung’s name; that’s Bullet Pulse, Jongho get out of there _ -”

The signal cut out again. The buildings around them were tall and with a sinking sensation Jongho realized that Mr. Koo must have lured him here on purpose to block the others from being able to contact him. 

“Any good news?” Mr. Koo asked. His eyes burned with cold fire but they never left Jongho’s face. “Hear anything…interesting, Choi Jongho?”

“Mr. Koo, did you set the fire?” Jongho asked, point blank.

“Why yes, Jongho-ssi. I set it for  _ you _ .” He shoved away from the wall, stalking closer to Jongho as he spoke. “I wanted to meet you just once. Just  _ once. _ The last person who ever saw her alive. Did you appreciate it? Did you understand what kind of gift you’d been given?” His face contorted, finally dropping its grotesque smile in favor of an even more monstrous snarl. “Do you even know what you did when you killed her? What you took away from the world? Did you even think about that, or are you just like the rest of them? A murderer in fanciful clothing, masquerading behind a whimsical name?!” He grabbed Jongho by the collar of his coat, hauling him closer as he screamed. Smoke curled from his nostrils like a dragon awakening from a long slumber. “Why did you get to  _ kill _ and walk free, but I was locked away in a cell for petty theft when she took her last breath?”

“You derailed a train.” Jongho winced, curling away from the acrid sting of smoke in his mouth and nose. “People died.”

“A  _ hero _ derailed the train!” Mr. Koo growled, shaking Jongho like a rag doll. “We weren’t going to hurt anyone. It was just a joke. A stick-em-up, like those old American Western movies. Rob a train and then escape before the cops could get there. But there was a Pro onboard, some big bastard with one of those ugly heteromorphic Quirks. He threw my buddy against the side of the traincar so hard the whole thing  _ tipped _ and it took the rest of the train with it. My friend  _ died _ , and I was arrested, unconscious. I woke up in a cell and I never-I never got to see my wife ever again. Because a few months later  _ you  _ killed her.”

He shoved Jongho away from him, two charred handprints scored into the leather of his coat where Mr. Koo had been holding onto his collar. The man snapped his fingers and his fists erupted in flame. 

“And now I’ve finally got you. It took me awhile to track you down, but I found you. I found out where you worked. I bought that place and waited for the perfect time to torch it, all to get  _ you _ here. How does that feel,  _ Siren _ .” He spat out Jongho’s alias like a curse. “How does it feel to know all of this is because of  _ you _ ?”

Before Jongho could even respond the man took a swing at him. The heat coming off his hands was so astronomical that even though Jongho managed to dodge it, he still felt the skin across his cheekbone blister and burst. Jongho couldn’t let him land a hit, or Jongho would be down for the count. 

Jongho stayed in shape, kept up with his training, but his Quirk wasn’t one that made his body capable of standing up to insane levels of heat. He would burn just like anyone else. Jongho didn’t even know if it would be safe to attempt to restrain Mr. Koo. Was Mr. Koo’s Quirk confined to his hands, or would the rest of his body be superheated as well? Judging by the smoke still curling from his nose and pouring from between his lips as he breathed out, Jongho wasn’t willing to risk it. 

“It’s Spartan, right?” Jongho asked, ducking underneath another expertly thrown punch. “That’s the name you used to go by?”

“So you do remember me.” Mr. Koo- _ Spartan _ , replied. Jongho had to stop thinking of him like a citizen. He was a villain. A villain who had set out to hurt people, who  _ had  _ hurt people in the past. Who, if he got by Jongho now would probably hurt  _ more  _ people.

Jongho managed to avoid the snap-kick Spartan aimed at him, but he should have realized such a basic move was a distraction because the shockwave of heat that hit him in the wake of the kick stole the air from his lungs and had the exposed flesh on his neck and face burning like he’d stepped too close to an open blast furnace without any protective gear. Jongho stumbled, back, hands flying up into a defensive position on instinct, successfully deflecting the second punch Spartan aimed at his face. He caught the brunt of it on his forearm, the leather of his jacket curled and smoked. Jongho grabbed Spartan by the wrist careful to only touch the material of the man’s sweatshirt. Jongho snapped a leg out, aiming a kick at the man’s knee. Spartan crumpled and Jongho took advantage of the situation, spinning him around and twisting his arm behind his back where he knelt on the ground. 

Spartan grunted, struggling against the joint lock, but Jongho only twisted his arm further. He didn’t want to hurt him, but he also wanted the man to understand that Jongho wouldn’t be letting him go any time soon. That he should just give up and come quietly. Jongho kept one booted foot pressed against the back of the man’s knee, preventing Spartan from attempting to regain his feet, or from suddenly twisting and attempting to hit Jongho with his other hand. 

Jongho attempted to contact the others,

“Modem, Dispatch.” He called out over the airwaves, “I’ve detained Spartan, we’re located in the alley between-” He squinted at the street signs just visible at the other end of the alley, rattling off their location. “Villain has a fire based Quirk. Requesting Downpour for back-up.”

He waited just a moment, tightening the pain compliance hold he had on Mr. Koo when the man resumed his struggling with renewed vigour. He whimpered and fell still. Jongho was just about to repeat his request again when Mingi’s voice broke through,

“ _ Siren, this is Dispatch. Corvus is en route with Downpour now. Please stand-by. _ ”

“Standing by.” Jongho confirmed. 

Mr. Koo was silent now, and it was almost concerning, compared to his impassioned ranting earlier. He simply knelt there on the ground, Jongho’s boot pressing his knee into the ground and the hold he had on his arm grinding the fine bones in his wrist and shoulder together every time he so much as shifted. He wasn’t even whining now, just sitting perfectly still. Like he’d finally accepted his fate.

Jongho wanted to say he felt sorry for him. He actually  _ did _ feel sorry for him, if he thought about it. Jongho had carried around a lot of guilt over Bullet Pulse’s death for years. He’d seen a therapist, he’d made amends for what he perceived as his crimes even as people hailed him as a hero. For years Jongho had quietly volunteered for Quirk Counseling Centers, working hotlines and meeting with students and young adults who’s Quirks made them feel like they had no control over their lives or that somehow their Quirks were evil or made them bad people. 

Jongho had come to terms with the fact that he may have been the one to end Jang Dajung’s time on this Earth, physically, but the world around her,  _ society _ , had been what was truly responsible for her loss of life. If Koo Mincheol wanted to place that blame entirely on Jongho’s shoulders, Jongho wasn’t going to argue with him, but he wasn’t going to let him pull Jongho back to that dark place he’d been in right after Jang Dajung’s death. 

“ _ SIREN! _ ” Mingi’s voice roared in his ear, “ _ Move! _ ”

It took Jongho a second to realize that Mingi must have had another Flash, and by the time he did it was almost too late. 

Spartan’s sweatshirt burst into flames, falling away from his torso in a cascade of ash. The skin of Jongho’s palms screamed in agony, sizzling as they were engulfed in the inferno. He released Spartan just a fraction too late to avoid any damage. He pitched backwards, startled to find that the thick sole of his boot had melted where it had been pressed against Spartan’s body. Jongho landed hard on his ass, the blistered flesh of his palms bursting against the abrasive concrete. 

Spartan was on him in a second, bearing down on him in a way that implied that Jongho didn’t have long left in this world. The man’s entire body was engulfed in a thick shroud of flame, only the still shockingly cold glint of his eyes and the white flash of his teeth visible through the blaze.

Jongho threw a hand out, scrambling for something,  _ anything  _ to defend himself with. His hand skittered across a pile of damp cardboard boxes and brushed against something cold, long, and round that rolled across the concrete with a metallic ringing. A long metal pipe. A quick glance to his left revealed that one of the boxes was full of discarded bits of plumbing. Without really thinking about it, he snapped up the pipe and swung it with all his might at Spartan’s head. It caught the man across the temple, creating a shower of sparks that fell on Jongho’s face and hair. The acrid scent of burning keratin assaulted his senses, and Jongho raised a hand to his fringe on instinct patting out the tiny burst of flame before they could consume his whole head. 

Spartan stumbled back from him, holding his head in his hands. Crimson blood dripped from between his fingers in rivulets, snuffing the flames that burned across one eye and down his wrists, leaving him with a sort of grotesque mask; half blood and half blaze. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you. I’m going to turn you into nothing but a pathetic pile of ash. I’m going to make you regret ever even  _ thinking  _ about becoming a hero.” Spartan snarled. He spat a mouthful of blood that boiled and sizzled on the concrete by his bare feet. Soot and ash marked each step he took forwards, his bare feet burning anything that wasn’t stone to dust. 

Fear climbed up Jongho’s throat, so fast it made him dizzy. There was nowhere for him to go. No where for him to run and no way for him to fight in such close-quarters, but he couldn’t retreat down the alley. That would only put more people in the line of literal fire. He had to find some way to hold Spartan here until San arrived. 

Jongho reached for the abandoned office chair and pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the screaming in his burned hands. He placed the sole of his ruined boot against the chair and kicked, sending it rolling down the alley towards Spartan; bum-rushing him while the man was distracted with avoiding the chair. Jongho swung the pipe a second time, but this time Spartan was ready. He caught the pipe and squeezed, sending a surge of heat down its length that forced Jongho to release it or risk more permanent damage to his hands. Spartan threw the pipe down the alley where it rolled away with clang of finality. 

The flames around the man’s wrists and over his palms were just starting to crackle back to life as he grabbed Jongho by the throat, slamming him back against the brick. Jongho could feel them, licking at the skin of his throat, leaving behind swatches of pain and ruined flesh. If Spartan held on for much longer it wouldn’t matter if Jongho lived through this or not, his throat would be ruined and he would never be able to use his Quirk again. 

Maybe that was a fitting end for him, after what he’d done to Kyungmin. 

Maybe it was only justice. 

Maybe.

And maybe Jongho wasn’t okay with that.

Maybe he had come to terms with what happened to Kyungmin the same way he’d come to terms with what happened to Jang Dajung. 

Maybe he had forgiven himself for that a long time ago, he just hadn’t allowed himself to take it out and look it over. To say out loud, ‘It wasn’t your fault’. To tell himself, ‘Your Quirk doesn’t define you and the control you have over your Quirk doesn’t have any indication over whether or not you’re a good person.’ The same words he’d been telling kids who called the center for years now, but had never had the courage to say to  _ himself _ . 

Jongho said them to himself now. 

And he told himself that he deserved to live. 

Jongho took a deep breath and let himself do something he hadn’t since the first and last day Wooyoung told him that he loved him;

Jongho screamed. 

He screamed with all the strength he had left, felt the burning flesh of his throat tear around the shriek even as Spartan’s fingers ripped from Jongho’s throat and flew to cover his ears. 

But this time Jongho was in control. He felt the moment it was too much and reigned it in just before the power behind the shriek became deadly. He drew another breath to scream and Spartan turned, hands still clasped firmly over his ears, to run in the direction of the street. He only made it a few steps however before the forgotten metal pipe smashed into the back of his skull and he stumbled to the side, plowing into the brick where he sagged, blinking and disoriented. 

Wooyoung dropped the metal pipe like it was a snake intent of biting him and scrambled to Jongho’s side. Jongho slid to the concrete, both hands clasped around his throat as he hesitantly tried to feel out the damage. 

“Holy shit, Jongho-yah, are you okay? Can you breathe?” Wooyoung asked, eyes wide with panic as he gently pried Jongho’s hands away from his neck. “Don’t touch it, burns get infected so easy. Fuck, you’re  _ hands _ .” He looked up at Jongho in despair. Wooyoung dropped the first aid bag around his shoulder to the ground and took a deep breath, held it for a second, then blew it gently into Jongho’s face. Almost immediately, the anesthetizing gas took root in Jongho’s lungs and worked its way through his system; not enough to render him unconscious but enough to make his head feel fuzzy and take the edge off the agonizing pain he was just now starting to register from the burns covering his body. 

Wooyoung took out a bottle of some sort of spray and began spritzing down the worst of his scorched flesh. It felt like ice, almost as painful as the burns themselves, but Jongho simply grit his teeth and accepted the pain, just like he accepted that Wooyoung knew what he was doing. 

Jongho blinked up at Wooyoung’s face; blonde hair just a bit too long and tucked behind one ear as he worked. A frown pulling down the corners of his mouth, his plush bottom lip pressed between the neat line of his teeth as he concentrated on making sure Jongho didn’t die from some back alley strain of super MRSA or something. He looked like an angel; a serious, frowning angel with tears in his eyes and hands that shook as he worked and Jongho wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss him so bad.

“Hyung-” He tried, his voice cracking in his charred, abused throat.

“Don’t.” Wooyoung said, resolutely not meeting Jongho’s eyes. “Don’t try to talk.”

“Young-ah…” Jongho tried again, raising one impossibly burned palm to cup Wooyoung’s cheek. It stung, especially when the tears Wooyoung had been holding back finally dripped free, falling from the elegant swoop of his lashes to trickle and sting over Jongho’s knuckle.

Wooyoung looked up and finally,  _ finally _ , met Jongho’s eyes. 

Jongho looked over Wooyoung’s shoulder and his heart stopped as, through the fog of Wooyoung’s Quirk he registered the fumbling form of Mr. Koo reaching for them, having regained his senses after the blow Wooyoung had dealt him.

“Wooyoung,” Jongho clutched his shoulder, prepared to shove him out of the way but Wooyoung must have sensed what was happening because he threw himself over Jongho instead and shielded Jongho from the wall of flame meant for him with his back. 

Jongho felt the way Wooyoung’s body jerked, heard the surprised, pained gasp Wooyoung suck in with lips pressed right against Jongho’s ear; the agonized whimper as the air came whooshing right back out. The way his fingers spasmed in the ruined material of Jongho’s coat.

Like an avenging angel Seonghwa dropped from the sky at the end of the alley. San tumbled from his arms and took off at a dead sprint down the alley. He leaped into the air, planted one foot on the wall, and with an elegant twist in the air he flipped and brought down what could only be described as a sledgehammer of water down on Spartan’s head. 

The roaring rush of water coated both Jongho and Wooyoung where they lay tangled together, dazed. It was amazing how quickly it was over after that. How one person’s Quirk could so quickly change the tide of a battle. San had well and truly extinguished Mr. Koo’s flames and with a quick flick of his fingers, Seonghwa awakened his own Shadow which then moved to restrain Mr. Koo, twisting his arms behind his back and holding them much like Jongho had earlier, except Mr. Koo couldn’t burn a shadow, and San would have put him out again before he could even try. The furious form of Mr. Koo disappeared into the prison created by Seonghwa’s shadow’s wings.

Yunho and another paramedic raced down the alley to get to Jongho and Wooyoung as San, Seonghwa, and the Shadow took Mr. Koo away. 

Yunho’s eyes slipped out of focus for just a moment as he activated his Quirk, looking Jongho over as quickly as possible.

“We have to get him out of here now. Wooyoung’s Quirk is keeping him from feeling the worst of it but he’s fading fast.” Yunho shouted, presumably to the duo carefully wheeling a couple of gurneys down the alley. Jongho barely registered his words, hardly understanding that Yunho meant  _ him _ . That  _ Jongho _ was the one who was fading fast. He thought that maybe he should be more worried about that, but all he was really worried about was if Wooyoung was okay. 

Wooyoung was still lying slumped against his chest. His eyes were open and glassy, and his lips were moving like he was trying to say something but no sound was coming out. The back of his shirt had been completely burned away, leaving behind an angry swath of blistered, burned flesh, blackened around the edges and a deep, deep red everywhere else

The air around them stirred and Jongho realized that one of the women with the gurney was Bluster. Yoohyeon used her Quirk to carefully lift Wooyoung away from him, placing him face down on one of the gurneys. 

She turned back to Jongho, but he shook his head, grunting as he shoved himself to his feet.

“I’m fine.” He said.

Or at least he tried to say it.

As soon as he gained his feet the world spun around him and suddenly everything hurt. He screamed, falling back to his knees as the pain raced through his body. Everything felt like it was burning. He remembered Wooyoung telling him that about burns, once. About how burns didn’t stop burning just because you got the victim away from the fire. That the heat would stay trapped in the tissue of the wounds and keep right on burning and burning for up to seventy-two hours before they could really be treated. That even people who managed to escape from fires could die from the continued damage caused by their burns days later. 

Jongho swayed where he kneeled, pitched forward and had the hysterical thought that he was going to add a cracked skull to his lift of injuries, but Yoohyeon caught him in a gentle whirlwind, lifting him up and depositing him on the second gurney. 

One of her Deukae teammates jumped onto the gurney with him, straddling his waist and pressing her hands to his chest. He didn’t even have the energy left to be embarrassed about the way her thighs bracketed his hips; he really  _ was _ fading fast. 

Jongho recalled that her hero name was Lightweaver only when he felt the soothing waves of her power start to work its way through his body with each thump of his heart. She couldn’t heal, but her power let her literally weave her Quirk into his very cells and hold them together. The second she stopped, he would start dying again, but she could keep him alive until they reached a hospital, at least. 

He hoped she could, anyway. 

Already, Lightweaver was frowning. The golden glow around her hands intensified and he felt like maybe he was floating again.

“I don’t know if I have enough to hold him.” Lightweaver was saying, “He might drain me before we make it. He’s going to crash as soon as I let him go, I can feel it. I’m barely holding him together.”

“It’s alright, Jiu-yah. Do you best.” Yoohyeon said, and together with Yunho they moved the gurneys out of the alley. They raced onto the street. The crowd had been pushed even further down the street, far from the mount of the alley, but they still burst into a collection of cheers and concerned cries when the Rescue team came into sight. 

They loaded Wooyoung into one ambulance and Jongho into another. One of the last things Jongho remembered noticing was that Wooyoung’s eyes were closed now. Jongho hoped that just meant he’d passed out and not that he’d-that he’d-

The ambulance door slammed shut behind Yunho. Lightweaver hadn’t even bothered to move, still straddled over Jongho’s prone form pouring her Quirk into his ruined body for everything it was worth. 

“We’re almost there.” Yunho murmured as the ambulance whipped around a corner and barreled down a busy street, siren blaring. “Almost there. Just two more blocks.”

Jiu swayed above him, her eyelids fluttering. “I’m sorry. I tried.” She whispered. Her eyelids closed and she fell to the side, unconscious. Yunho caught her and laid her gently on the bench. 

‘ _ Oh well. She did her best. _ ’ was the last thing Jongho thought before his heart stopped. 

\---

“You know,” was the first thing Jongho heard when he opened his eyes. “That’s the third time I’ve saved your life.”

He blinked, trying to shoo away the fogginess that clung to his corneas. His eyes felt dry and scratchy like he’d been awake for too long, even though he was sure he’d been asleep for days. 

The last thing he remembered was the thrum of electricity through his body as the emergency room doctors slammed the defibrillator paddles to his chest for the third time, just before they wheeled him into the operating room. When he pushed himself, he had some vague recollections of the horrifying process that had been his burns being debrided and wrapped, the pain overwhelming even through the morphine. He was afraid to look down at his hands, afraid of what he would see, because if his hands were a mess, he could only imagine his face and his throat were just as bad. His face felt stiff, like he’d fallen asleep with a sheet mask on and when he squeezed his eyes shut he imagined he could feel the corners cracking. 

“You didn’t save my life the first time.” Jongho whispered, “It was only a test.” 

He didn’t turn to look at Wooyoung. Didn’t want to see how Wooyoung would look at him, because that would only confirm all of Jongho’s worst fears. That his face was ruined, that he was going to be scarred and burned for the rest of his life. He simply closed his eyes again. He still didn’t look at his hands, wrapped in soft bandages and tucked beneath the cotton of a bleached hospital blanket. 

“It’s a metaphor.” Wooyoung said, and Jongho could hear the smile in his voice.

“A metaphor for what?” Jongho played along, recalling that day they stood across from each other in the maze. The first day they met and Jongho realized that Wooyoung was going to be someone special.

“Our relationship.” Wooyoung replied. 

“We don’t have a relationship.” Jongho repeated, but this time the words weren’t said with an exasperated eye roll; fifteen years old and not having yet realized he was looking at his future. Now, they were said from a hospital bed, looking back on his past with a heavy heart. “Not anymore.”

“Jongho-” Wooyoung started but Jongho heaved a heavy sigh.

“Help me to the bathroom?” Jongho interrupted. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be moving around too much.” Wooyoung gave in easily, not pressing the subject. 

“Yah, Jung Wooyoung. Let me have my pride. I just want to take a piss in peace.”

Wooyoung helped him swing his legs over the side of the bed and then gently tugged him to his feet, avoiding touching his arms or his hands. He wrapped a guiding arm around Jongho’s waist, a firm hand wrapped around the jut of his hip as he helped him limp towards the bathroom. Jongho was glad that whoever had dressed him last had slipped a pair of sweats on him or else his bare ass would have been exposed to the world via the open back of his hospital gown. 

“I’ll be just outside.” Wooyoung promised him, closing the door quietly behind Jongho. 

Jongho took a few, deep, steady breaths and then shuffled towards the toilet. He really did have to pee what felt like ten liters. He turned to the sink automatically to wash his hands and hesitated when he remembered they were wrapped in bandages. He flexed his fingers experimentally, but there was no pain. They felt dry and stiff, just like his face, crackling like poorly set paper mache, but they didn’t hurt. Cautiously, and probably against medical advice, Jongho’s fingers fumbled to unwrap the bandages. They fell away from his hands to reveal shiny, pink skin. A little bit thin, a little bit off-color in patches compared to his forearms, but skin nonetheless. Unblemished, healthy skin. 

Slowly, he raised his head and looked at himself in the mirror. 

It was the same on his neck. Climbing up his throat and across his face sat that same unnatural, shiny, pink sheen of new skin. Like a newborn baby, but a bit less adorable. A bit more ‘this person was sick.’. The only spots that looked like they might not eventually fade were the initial spot just across his cheekbone where Mr. Koo had almost landed that first punch, and the subtle shading of a handprint circled just below his adam’s apple. Jongho had a feeling that he would be carrying the shadows of those marks for the rest of his life. 

A sob, unexpected and raw, broke from his chest. 

He leaned forward, clutching at the sink. He was too exhausted for crying, but he couldn’t seem to help it. The bitter salt of his tears stung as they dripped over the new-skin-pink of his cheeks and he remembered how Wooyoung’s tears had stung against his knuckles when they finally spilled over, back in the alley. 

Jongho remembered how he’d been thinking of Wooyoung, how he finally let himself use his Quirk to defend himself again, and then Wooyoung had been there; like an answer to an unspoken prayer. He thought that maybe it was a bit funny, that after all these years when Jongho’s back was against a wall and he was facing certain doom, his last clear, driving thought was still of Wooyoung. Always of Wooyoung. 

He was still in love with Wooyoung. 

The bathroom door swung open and Wooyoung poked his head in. He took in Jongho’s pitiful form and sighed, taking Jongho’s newly uncovered hand carefully in his own as he led Jongho back to his bed. Wooyoung tucked him in, then turned to the bedside table to pour Jongho a glass of water. 

Jongho took it, grateful for something to rid the sour taste of sleep from his mouth. 

Wooyoung dropped into the chair next to his bed. There was a blanket there, like he’d been curled up in it to sleep at some point. He moved gingerly, and Jongho realized that Wooyoung’s back was probably just as raw, pink, and new as Jongho’s face and hands. 

“Should you be in your own bed somewhere?” Jongho asked, sitting the cup aside. 

“Nope.” Wooyoung said, reaching forward to fuss with the edge of Jongho’s blankets. “They discharged me yesterday.  _ I _ didn’t die three times on the way to the operating room.”

“One for each time you saved my life.” Jongho smirked. 

Wooyoung made a face that implied that he absolutely did  _ not  _ find Jongho’s joke funny. 

“Did anyone ever tell you that Kyungmin has a Quirk?” Wooyoung said instead.

Jongho froze. Wooyoung had never tried to talk to him about Kyungmin before. Wooyoung talked about anything he could think of when they worked a scene together but never anything personal. 

“No.” Jongho said quietly, shaking his head. “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s a new Quirk. A mutation, I mean. It’s not an inherited Quirk. It’s called Vibrato. If someone is talking, even if they’re rooms away he can touch the wall or the floor and he can feel the vibrations of their words. He says he doesn’t really remember exactly what it’s like to hear, but he says that’s what it feels like in his head. If he holds my hand, or touches mom’s shoulder when she talks, he knows exactly what we’re saying.” Wooyoung took Jongho’s hand, lacing their fingers together over the blankets. “Jongho, he can hear.”

“He can hear?” Jongho murmured, staring down at their hands interlocked together in his lap. 

“He can  _ hear _ .” Wooyoung repeated, laughing. “He’s going to be ten soon. He still wants to be just like you. He has a scrapbook where he keeps a little print out about every rescue Edenary is involved in. He says he’s going to join Rescue and save people. I always tell him, ‘your big brother is in Rescue, too!’” Wooyoung chuckled, exasperated. “But all I ever hear about is Siren. He wouldn’t let me forget about you. Not even for a second.” 

He squeezed Jongho’s hand, careful, so very, very careful. 

“Jongho...I never said I was sorry. For how I acted that day. And for-for what I did. I never should have hit you.”

Jongho shook his head, “It’s alright. My Quirk was out of control. We were both traumatized by what happened. You had every right to be angry with me, to be  _ afraid  _ of me. I was afraid of me, too.” Slowly, giving Wooyoung plenty of time to pull away, Jongho ran his thumb across Wooyoung’s knuckles. Stroked the soft rise and swell of them, thought about how many lives Wooyoung had saved with those hands, and how Jongho was undeniably one of them. “I forgave you a long time ago, Young-ah. I hope one day you can forgive me, too.”

“Yah, Choi Jongho.” Wooyoung laughed, and the sound of it was thick and wet. “For someone who’s Quirk lets you manipulate how people feel, you sure as hell don’t seem to be very good at actually reading people.” Wooyoung stood up from the chair and slid onto the narrow hospital bed next to Jongho. “Or maybe it’s just me that you can’t read.” He whispered, right before his hand raised to cup the new skin along Jongho’s jaw and his lips pressed to Jongho’s. 

The kiss was too dry, Jongho’s lips were cracked from healing burns and days with too little water, but he drank in Wooyoung’s kiss like it would somehow sustain him. He pressed into it, eager to take what was being offered to him before Wooyoung came to his senses. 

They broke apart and Wooyoung pressed his forehead to his. He looked Jongho straight in the eyes when he said, 

“I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen years old. Even when I hated your guts and never wanted to see you again there was no one but you. I’ve watched you almost die in front of me twice and both times I thought that if you died I would die, too. I forgave you the second I walked out that door, I was just too afraid to say it.”

“I love you, too.” Jongho dropped his head to Wooyoung’s shoulder. Buried his face in his neck and breathed in the scent of Wooyoung along with the sterile smell of the hospital. It felt like it wasn’t enough, that he needed to say more, to make Wooyoung  _ understand  _ but at the same time he knew that there wasn’t anything else to say. He loved Wooyoung. That was the simple truth of it. They had time to find the rest of the words that needed to be said later. 

“About fucking time.” A voice said from the doorway. 

They broke apart to see Eden standing there, a wide grin on his face. Hongjoong peeked under his arm. He gave them a small wave.

“Are we interrupting something?” Hongjoong asked, ducking around Eden to enter the room. He had a teddy bear almost as large as him in his arms and Jongho rolled his eyes. What the hell was he supposed to do with  _ that  _ thing?!

“Of course you are, what the hell does it look like?” Wooyoung quipped, but he hopped off the bed to greet Hongjoong anyway, pulling him into a hug. Eden entered, followed by San, Yeosang, Mingi, and Yunho. Seonghwa slipped in last, choosing to find a corner where his wings wouldn’t be in the way after he gave Jongho’s hair a friendly ruffle and placed a card on his bedside table. Jongho was absolutely certain they were violating some sort of occupancy ordinance for his hospital room, but he knew there was no way any of the staff was going to argue with one of the most popular hero teams in the city. 

The rest of the afternoon passed in a happy blur, the members of Edenary filing in and out as needed, bringing Jongho snacks and filling him in on how the rest of the Rescue and Clean Up had gone, new cases that had arisen since then, and, unsurprisingly, the lawsuit Mr. Koo was filing against Jongho and Wooyoung for using excessive force on him as members of Rescue and not Pro Heros. 

“He doesn’t have a leg to stand on.” Eden reassured them. Wooyoung never left Jongho for more than a second. Currently, he was curled up under Jongho’s arm on the narrow hospital bed, warm against his side in a comforting way that Jongho hoped he would never lose again. “Everyone is entitled to defend themselves. He was using his Quirk against you, and you had every right to use yours in a life or death situation, regardless of what sort of license you hold.”

“Wooyoung didn’t even use his Quirk.” Jongho said, “He just swung on him like he was trying out for the KBO League. To be honest, I don’t know how he managed to get up again after that.”

Mingi barked out a laugh and a nurse stuck her head in the room, shushing him in a good natured fashion. 

“Sorry!” He whisper-yelled after her, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“The pipe melted when it came into contact with his head. The initial force of the blow was there but the pipe softened enough that it really only managed to scramble his brains for a second. If it had been anyone else with any other Quirk they probably would have been down for the count.” San provided, from his place perched on the arm of the chair Wooyoung had abandoned. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Hongjoong said. He was curled up in the chair, leaning back against San and trying to pretend like he wasn’t five seconds away from purring at the way the younger man combed his fingers through his hair. “He was a villain and he was going to use his Quirk to hurt people. It’s just a bunch of bureaucratic red tape. You did the right thing and everyone knows it.”

Jongho thought about what Mr. Koo had said, about how a Pro had actually been the one to derail the train all those years ago.

“The laws exist for a reason, though.” Jongho said quietly. “People with powerful Quirks can’t just use them however they want. Having a hero license shouldn’t change that. Heroes still need to be in control. It’s not our job to hand out justice or pass judgement. We should always try to avoid hurting someone, even if they’re trying to hurt other people.”

Hongjoong frowned, opened his mouth like he was going to argue but Wooyoung beat him to it. 

“Jongho’s right.” Wooyoung said, looking up at Jongho from where he laid tucked against his side. “It’s our responsibility to save lives, not end them. I’m glad I didn’t hurt him more when I hit him. If he had died, I would have felt terrible. But,” He tapped Jongho between the eyes, startling him. “I would have felt even worse if you had died, so I don’t regret it. And neither should you.”

Jongho knew what Wooyoung actually meant, that Jongho shouldn’t regret making the choice to use his Quirk back in the alley. Surprisingly, Jongho didn’t. Not even a little bit. He had used his voice to defend himself for the first time since Bullet Pulse’s death and he had remained in control. He was  _ proud  _ of himself. Proud of the progress he had made. Proud that he had made the choice to live instead of resigning himself to die. 

“I don’t regret it.” Jongho said out loud. “I’m glad I’m alive, too.”

“You two are going to make me sick, it’s like high school all over again.” Yeosang grumbled, standing and stretching his arms over his head. His back popped with a nauseating series of cracks and Mingi flinched at each one. “I remember the two of you making those big moon eyes at each other over the lunch table but both of you being too chicken to actually do anything about it. Are we going to have to watch you guys dance around each other again for three years before you actually get your shit together or are you actually going to do this?”

“Yeosang.” Seonghwa said quellingly from his corner, “Leave them be.”

“No, it’s okay.” Wooyoung laughed. He turned back to look at Jongho once more. “I think we’ve got it figured out this time. What do you think, Jongho?”

Jongho smirked, leaning down to press his lips to Wooyoung in a simple, sweet kiss. 

“Yeah, I think maybe we’re finally on the same page again.”

Yeosang snatched the pillow from Hongjoong’s chair and chucked it at them. Eden’s Shadow stepped in front of it, blocking it and they all watched as it fell to the ground with a harmless plop. Eden shuddered as his shadow phased back into place.

“Don’t  _ do  _ that!” Eden scolded Seonghwa, who merely smiled his closed lipped smile, wings flexing behind him as he settled into his corner a bit more. 

Jongho laughed, feeling at home for the first time in years and years and years; surrounded by the people he loved, with the person he loved most of all tucked safely against his side. 

**Author's Note:**

> \---  
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